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#dan's inner trash can
sh1-n0bu · 5 months
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𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!
day 22: double dom with dan heng from hsr
warnings: two readers, cock/strap/shaft/length traditions, praise, degrading, double penetration, overstimulation, dacryphilia, creampie, squirting, oral, slapping, slight feminization, slight breeding, love confessions even though reader and dan heng are in relationship, shit gets messy
notes: if yall didnt like normal dan heng, yall dont deserve lunae. i die by this statement
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“what a whore. look at him, squealing like he wants more”
“won’t you shut the fuck up? and don’t call dan heng ‘whore’ again unless you want to have your jaw broken”
all dan heng could do was let out a high pitched embarrassed squeal again as he comes on your hand again. his face was flushed red, all the way to his shoulders. bare skin covered in sweat, tears and drool as he tries to make sense of who it was that was fucking his hole open now.
it was weird to wake up to the noise of commotion. especially if the commotion was caused by two you. at first dan heng thought he was having some super weird dream. he tried slapping himself, pinching himself and even thought if his food or drink was spiked with something weird.
but no. none of it was sadly true and the situation he woke up to was very much real. there, standing over the side of the bed were two [name]s. exact carbon copies of one another except one was cussing the other out more while the other was calm and collected. but the calm one was losing their shit more and more as the other [name] spits curses at them.
somehow, it ends up in this little competition between the two [name]s to see which one can fuck him better.
one was gentle with him. coaxing him gently, peppering kisses on his neck and whispering soothing words in his ear. praising him for how pretty he looks, how he was so beautiful and ethereal, how he was doing such a good job as dan heng gags and chokes around your cock. saliva slipping from the side of his mouth, slipping down his chin as his whines get muffled with your length down his throat, causing slight bulge in them.
the other was mean. degrading him, calling him a filthy whore for letting himself get used by two [name]s. a fucking slut for willingly opening his legs wide and allowing his cute puckering hole to get fucked over and over. their strap pushing their own cum deeper inside him, pushing him into impossible, near painful positions as dan heng cries fat globs of tears. he never knew that his lover could be mean. even more, he didn’t knew that he would be so damn turned on by the mean slaps to his inner thigh, making him squeal and clench around the mean one like a harlot.
dan heng didn’t knew which one to focus on. all he could do was lay there on the bed. spread out with his inner thighs and ass red from the mean one’s slaps. his own cum painting his stomach as he sobs in a twisted sense of pain and pleasure. he felt so full, he was so sure that he was going to bend the biology of a vidyadhara and get pregnant.
by the mean [name] or by the gentle [name], he didn’t knew. he couldn’t even tell if the one who was keeping his legs open as he trashes and whimpers of feeling so full is his own [name] of this reality.
“you’re doing it wrong. fuck him hard like you mean it, dumb fuck. look at him. he’s getting my hard work all over the place!”
a voice hisses, angry and annoyed by the sound of it. a hand comes to knead his sore ass, making dan heng let out a choked whimper and cling to the other one tighter. ah, the one whose cock was inside him right now was the gentle one.
“guunck—! puh-please… can’t… i can’t take more… please please pleaseplease—! [n-name], you’re gonna break me… aaanh♡︎!!” dan heng lets out a loud moan. shrill and drawn out like a girl’s as his thighs shake from where they’re wrapped around your waist.
clinging to the gentle one was his only source of comfort and grounding. if not, dan heng was sure that his mind will break and his brain would get fried from the overwhelming amount of pleasure and pain.
“shut up, slut. you’re going to have to take everything if you want to decide who’s the winner here” the angry one grunts, kneading his already red and sore ass before slapping him again. dan heng twitches, bucking his hips as he tries to escape the mean one’s hold on him only to grind your cock against his prostate. he was shooting blanks from just that. body too overstimulated to keep going. but he wanted to. the sick perverted part of his mind wanted to feel the pain.
spreading his asscheeks apart with both hands, the poser takes a moment. eerily silent and calm faced as they watch the both of your mixed cum slowly ooze out of his loose hole, dripping down onto the mattress below. it created more wet stain in the already messed up mattress. but it also gave the poser an idea.
all the while you whispered of love and gentle reassurances into the ruined man’s ear, the other you shuffle closer until their chest was flush against dan heng’s back. the faraway look in his teary eyes, the old tearstains and the drool covering his chin was more than enough proof that dan heng was far gone. mind filled with statics as he can only take and take and take whatever’s given to him.
“hey, shift him a bit and pull out until your tip, will you?” the other you says, tapping your hips. for a moment, you just wanted to tell your doppelgänger to fuck off and go back to their own reality. but the excited look in their eyes got you sighing as you fulfill what they asked.
pulling out until only your tip is inside his gaping hole, you whisper more sweet nothings to dan heng when he whimpers at the feeling. he was already so spent. he possibly can’t handle what your other half was planning. but you were possessive and that trait mixed with a feeling of wanting to prove that you’re worth dan heng made you simply shut up.
fingering the dripping cum back inside his twitching warm walls, your doppelgänger hooks a finger at his loose hole. slowly spreading him out more and more, little by little, you were too slow to realize until dan heng was trashing about, sobbing and crying about how he was going to break until his jaws go slack in a silent scream. his spent cock squirting over his tummy again.
“t-too much… break… ‘m gonna breakkk aanh aahg ghiick♡︎ gyaack! c-cocks mmmgh uungh—! too much♡︎♡︎!”
the reserved and deadly guard of the astral express, shaking his head as he cries, creating new tear stain marks as he drools all over himself. great amount of his own cum staining his stomach, hair stuck to his forehead as he sweats all over. each time his mouth opens, it’s to let out shrill, girlish moans and squeals. the sound lewd and downright pornographic as it draws out, followed by the sound of two cocks sinking deeper into his tight and eager hole inch by inch.
“fuck—! mmgh so fucking tight, i can’t even move my hips. see that? that’s my cute little breeding bitch. cunt all tight and eager as always” your doppelgänger chuckles, hands coming up to twist and pull at his sensitive, swollen nipples. dan heng shakes his head furiously, denying the poser’s words with all his heart.
it was when your poser placed a kiss on his neck, ready to bite him and mark his skin did he let out a noise of denial. placing his trembling hand over their face, he shoves them away with what little strength did he had left. clinging to your form tightly with his chest flush against yours, you were glad that it was dan heng who protested. because if he hadn’t you would have broken more than just a few bones.
“uhnn!! not [name]! n-not my [name]!” dan heng whines, clinging to you with a vice grip. the thought of being marked by someone else — even if said someone else was technically [name] from another reality — dan heng hated it. he hated the idea of carrying someone else’s love bite on him, if not his own [name].
“not my [name]… i love you… i love you, [name]! mine, only mine! only m-my [name] gets to fuck a baby in me—♡︎!” before you could even make sense of his slurred blabbering words, dan heng passes out. face serene, forehead resting on your shoulder as he continues to grip onto you even in his unconscious state.
ah, the feeling of being in love and loving in return. but that aside, it’s time to punch this annoying doppelgänger of yours before taking care of your unconscious darling—
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milksnake-tea · 10 months
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The Stellaron Hunters were a group renowned and hated across the galaxies, both feared and respected by the factions. But under those skillful manipulations and operations, was an organization as put together as a monkey circus. You should know this best, as a member of this menagerie.
stellaron hunter!reader (no specific pairings)
contains: cursing, possibly ooc, written before version 1.2, just a bunch of silly shenanigans, unedited, can be read as romantic and platonic !!
word count: 3.7k
a/n: i had to rewrite this like... 4 times bc tumblr kept deleting it :// anyways night dancer got me through this piece so :D u can tell i have a blade preference but listen he's hot
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Before we get on with the sillies, let's lay down some groundwork.
Every Stellaron Hunter has a specific role in mind. Blade is the feral dog that you throw at people, Kafka pisses people off (and shoots ig), and Silver Wolf gets past all defenses.
You're the expert on espionage and disguise. With the power of masks, voice changers, and makeup, you can become basically anyone if you put your mind to it. Even people with completely different builds than you, you could pull off - as long as the holographs don't start glitching out.
You're often paired with Silver Wolf in order to infiltrate various bases. Silver Wolf can transcend any physical barriers, while you sweet talk your way into the inner circles of any leaders. Sometimes, you implant ideas into people's heads in order to guide them towards a certain path, sometimes you just do it for the fun of it.
Your favorite victim so far has been the Express. Ever since the Trailblazer joined, you've entertained yourself by posing as them or other members of the Express (the only ones you can't figure out are Welt Yang and the conductor, Pom-Pom).
And it was surprising, how easily you could trick March 7th and Dan Heng. You had no idea where the original Trailblazer was (probably up some poor soul's dumpster), but frankly, you didn't care.
You somehow managed to trick the two for the better half of a day. It wasn't until you didn't jump at the sight of the first trashcan on the Xianzhou Luofu that the duo realized that something was off.
"Who- Who are you?!"
March stepped back, Dan Heng already drawing his spear. But you weren't going to give in so easily. No, you wanted to see just how far you could take this.
"Guys?" You feigned hurt and confusion as you faced the two. "What're you..."
"Don't play dumb," Dan Heng cut you off, thrusting his spear under your chin. "You're not them. The real Trailblazer would've started ransacking that trashcan by now."
What kind of freak-
"C'mon guys, I have taste," you sighed, crossing your arms. "The trashcans here don't compare to the ones at Belobog. They're not as shiny."
"Trailblazer said that appearance doesn't matter when it comes to trash!" March shot back, her bow appearing in her hands. "Enough games, who are you really?"
You paused for a moment, contemplating your options. You could try to bullshit your way out of this, but you sincerely doubted you would be able to. What kind of freak personality did Silver Wolf program into the vessel, anyways?
You sighed, making the two tense up. Your face, still that of the Trailblazer's, twisted into a condescending sneer, before you doubled over in laughter.
"Ah... Damnit, and here I thought I was doing well!" You stretched your arms, March backing away from you. "Well, that just goes to show, I still have much to improve."
With a snap of your fingers, your disguise melted away, revealing your true appearnce.
"You're-!" March gasped. "You're one of the Stellaron Hunters!"
"Am I really that famous?" you pondered, leaning back on the railing. "And here I thought Kafka or Silver Wolf were more popular."
"What're you trying to pull," Dan Heng growled, "pretending to be the Trailblazer? What did you do to them?"
"Oh, nothing," you replied simply, popping your bone. "I just sent them a coupon for that restaurant down the street. So don't worry yourselves, I'm just here to have a little bit of fun."
Before the two could comprehend the stupidity of their companion, you jumped onto the railing, balancing on your toes.
"Well, it's been fun, Nameless." You waved cheerfully, taking a step back into the open air. "Let's meet again sometime soon, yeah?"
"Wait!" They rushed to the railing, adamant on catching you - but you had already vanished.
The world might see you as a complete weirdo, but honestly, you aren't even the worst of the Stellaron Hunters. In your humble opinion, you're the lesser evil compared to your comrades.
If you're going to survive in this job, you have to get used to Kafka bullying you. Don't worry, she does it to everyone, it's not just you. But signing up to become a Stellaron Hunter also means you sign up to a life of relentless teasing.
You roll your eyes at the feeling of a familiar gun barrel against your head. Kafka holds it against your temple firmly, but you know her finger isn’t anywhere near the trigger. It’s not like you’re Blade, who somehow survived getting thrown off a four-story building.
“Now who do we have here?” Kafka muses lazily. “A potential spy from the IPC? Or perhaps, one of the Xianzhou Cloud Knights?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Kafka,” you turn around, unimpressed. With one move, you pulled off your mask, glaring at her pointedly as you grab a bottle of water. “I know that thing isn’t loaded.”
“Oh, it’s you, [Name],” Your senior gasps mockingly, removing the gun. “When did you come in? I could’ve sworn an intruder-”
You throw the bottle at her. She dodges because of course she does.
And Kafka isn't even the least of your worries. At least she has a sense of financial responsibility.
There's no doubt that Silver Wolf is integral to the workings of the Stellaron Hunters, especially with her hacking abilities. She's certainly skilled with her work, and she has saved your ass many times before.
But sometimes, you have to play babysitter to her, because homegirl may or may not have a gambling addiction, especially when it comes to whatever those gacha games of hers. Whenever she visits the city's nearby arcade or casino, either you or Kafka have to be around so that she doesn't end up gambling all of your funds away. You would get Blade to do it, except he couldn't care less about your financial problems.
“Let me go! I’ve almost got it, I know I do!”
Silver Wolf kicked at your shoulders wildly as you hoisted her up. You paid her no mind as you left the arcade, Blade walking in tow. You kept a firm grip on his sleeve, making sure he didn’t run off and start any trouble. You saw the look he gave the claw machine. If you hadn’t dragged Silver Wolf away, he would’ve likely broken the thing out of impatience.
“I was so close!” The girl on your shoulder whined, like a kid who didn’t get their favorite toy.
“You already spent 500k on it,” you replied bluntly. “It’s a scam, don’t you know?”
“So what?” Silver Wolf retorted. “I would’ve won!”
“Yeah,” you shifted her up, your shoulder getting sore. You weren’t really built for hard labor. “After you spent another hundred thousand credits, sure.”
“I wasn’t!” She’d stopped fighting you, now hanging limply so that her entire weight pressed down on you. “I could’ve hacked it-”
“Really? You’d put that much effort into a claw machine?” Before Silver Wolf could argue, your phone dinged, as did Blade’s and Silver Wolf’s - successfully interrupting your bickering. You glanced at Blade as he checked his phone for the three of you.
“It’s Kafka,” he reported, typing out a quick response. “She says it’s time to go back.”
“Tell her we’ll be there in 10 minutes, if Silver stops her tantrum,” you said, looking pointedly at Silver Wolf. The hacker kicked you in response. 
“I am not throwing a tantrum,” she huffed. You rolled your eyes.
“Sure, whatever you say.”
Speaking of which, Blade is like your guard dog. A very intimidating guard dog. With a sword. And attitude issues.
Come to think of it, he's more like a cat if anything.
When he's not being launched at the faces of various enemies, Blade often finds himself acting as your shadow. He just follows you around, doesn't say anything, and the second he smells a whiff of a threat, the sword comes out and you have to talk him down before someone calls the cops.
It seems that you’re the only one unaffected by the suffocating tension clogging up the clothing store. There’s an obvious circle of space surrounding you and Blade as you browse through various suits, intent on finding one that would fit the man standing behind you. Elio’s next script required that Blade and Kafka go to a dinner party, and knowing Blade, the man didn’t have any clothes other than the ones you and the other Hunters got for him.
It wasn’t that Blade didn’t have an eye for fashion, rather, he simply didn’t care much for it. Shopping wasn’t exactly his cup of tea either. His hands itched for action, but he did have to admit that this was better than sulking around in his room all day.
You pulled out another suit that had caught your eye, a simple black one with a bronze lapel. It would fit the vest you’d already picked out for him. Holding it out in front of Blade, you squint as you try to picture what it’d look like on him.
Decent enough. You hummed in satisfaction, turning the suit around to show it to him. “What do you think?”
Blade shrugs, only giving the suit a brief glance. “It’s fine.”
You sigh, giving him a look. “Do you like it?”
“It isn’t the worst thing you’ve put me in,” he says nonchalantly. You huff, lightly hitting his chest. For a second, a glimmer of a smile flickers onto his face at your action.
“Watch your attitude,” you reprimand playfully. “Otherwise I’m giving you the shittiest suit I can find in here.”
“You wouldn’t,” Blade says easily as the two of you walk toward the cash registers. “Your heart couldn’t bear to do that to a face like mine.”
“Cheeky brat.”
You remember the day Blade was first brought to the base, picked up by Kafka and Elio like a stray cat. He had a strange resemblance to that of a drowned rat, being absolutely sopping wet.
Your seniors just kinda dropped him off into your room with the only instructions being "Make him look presentable", which didn't give you a lot to work with. You weren't sure how you were going to fix him, but after a lot of bathing, hair drying, and brushing, you soon discovered that the drowned rat had a pretty face.
So basically, you're the only reason why he looks remotely presentable.
And quite frankly, Blade does not make it easier on you. He doesn't care about how he looks, only how his enemies look - and that's dead and unmoving. Sir somehow manages to fuck up his fit every time he goes on mission, coming back with his very expensive clothes, mind you, covered in blood, and his hair messed up.
The audacity of him, to just walk into your room unannounced, clothes completely torn and hair a mess, and plop himself down on your perfectly clean chair and wait for you to fix him up. Granted, you'll do it (you wouldn't allow any of your comrades to leave without a decent haircut), but that doesn't mean you won't rattle his ear off with a scolding.
“Just what did you do to it this time?”
You grumbled as you cut away at Blade’s hair, the man in question sitting in your salon chair and scrolling through his phone. He had just come back from a mission, and this time he somehow managed to cut off the bottom half of his long locks, resulting in a horrendously uneven cut.
“You’re literally so photogenic and then you go and do this?” you huffed, blowing his hair into his face with a blowdryer.
“You can fix it, can’t you?” Blade didn’t even look up from his screen as he texted Silver Wolf, likely using this as an excuse to escape her pleas to game with her.
You scowl, venting your anger as you brushed his hair, cutting a few extra strands. “Just because I can, doesn’t mean I always have the time to do so! Now sit still.”
Oh, and another thing? There's no such thing as privacy when you're with the Stellaron Hunters.
You first learned this when you came back from a particularly grueling mission, early on in your career with the Hunters. You were covered in blood that wasn't (or was it?) yours, drenched from the rain and safe to say, not in the greatest of moods. All you wanted was to take a shower, and preferably, take an undisturbed nap on your warm bed.
Unfortunately, Kafka had other plans.
You opened the door to find her lounging on YOUR bed, IN THE DARK, ruffling through your makeup collection like it was normal. She didn't even seem bothered when you flicked on the light, didn't even acknowledge you until you threw a knife at her.
And what did she say when you made it abundantly clear that she shouldn't be in here? Nothing. She just scrunched up her nose and told you to take a shower.
And that is how you learned that having your own room is utterly useless because every single Hunter could pick a lock. You could try to use an electric one. Silver Wolf sure did. And to her credit, it worked, until a certain dog named Blade came around and just kicked the door down.
Out of all the Stellaron Hunters to creep around in your room, Sam was by far the worse. You could handle Kafka going through your makeup, or Blade judging your taste in books. You can deal with Elio having his fucking shoes on your bed because he's your boss and honestly what are you going to do against an actual seer? Exactly. Nothing. At least his shoes are usually clean.
But Sam? He doesn't visit so that he can go through your things, or just hang around. No. He comes around with the pure intention of scaring the shit out of you.
He just waits?? Outside your door?? In the dark?? Until you open it and he jumps you. It usually ends with someone getting punched, but honestly, it's nothing either of you couldn't handle.
Silver Wolf likes to pretend that she isn't as bad as the other because in her words, she "gives you a warning". Said warning is "You better be decent" before she barges in and starts rambling about the new game she bought.
One time you were not decent and someone had to pay the price. That someone was not you.
There is one good thing that comes out of all this invasion of privacy. Because whatever the others do to you, you get to do right back to them. 
“What does this button do?”
“Don’t touch that.” Kafka playfully whined as Silver Wolf snatched away the console in her hands. The hacker was less than pleased, having returned to her room only to discover that she’d been chosen as the Hunters’ victim for today.
You lean against Kafka’s shoulder, pouting alongside her at your latest toy being confiscated. “C’mon Silver, let us have some fun at least.”
“After you two invaded my room? Not a chance,” she replied, tossing the console to somewhere you and Kafka couldn’t reach. Kafka merely hummed at the loss, leaning back onto Silver Wolf’s messy bed.
“You know, you should really clean up around here,” she commented. “They nearly killed themselves tripping over a stack of DVDs.”
“Agreed, although I wouldn’t mention that last part,” you said, picking up another one of Silver Wolf’s consoles. This one had a fighting game on it. Silver Wolf rolled her eyes as you quickly busied yourself with fighting the boss she had left off on.
“If you don’t want to get hurt, then don’t come in,” she said, plopping down on the bed next to you. Kafka smiled.
“Sure, but where’s the fun in that?” she asked, watching you tap away at the screen. “It was just a suggestion, no need to get all worked up.”
“I’m not, but okay.” Silver Wolf hissed as your character took damage. “If you get my character killed-”
“I won’t,” you retorted, swiftly defeating the boss. You tossed Silver Wolf the console. “See?”
“You’re half dead,” Silver Wolf deadpanned.
“Doesn't matter. I still won.”
Your group chat is an absolute mess, with no one understanding Silver Wolf's slang or dialect. Blade's outdated brain short-circuited the first time he touched a phone, while Kafka just silently accepted her fate. You often have to translate because Silver Wolf sure wasn't going to.
Gambling Addict: Ykw blade
Gambling Addict: This is why u pull no bitches
Gambling Addict: Bc if [name] didnt yassify u 
Gambling Addict: U would have zero rizz
Gambling Addict: Negative rizz actually
You: I see no lie here
Gambling Addict: So stfu about my social life at least i can pull bitches
DONT PICK UP: [Name], translate
Gambling Addict: [Name] i have ur closet at gunpoint 
You: She means Blade can't attract maidens bc he has as much charisma as a blobfish
You: Also stfu silver I know you can't shoot for shit
Gambling Addict: [NAME]
Gambling Addict: Actually no, ur right
DONT PICK UP: Oh, I see
You: I'm always right 💅✨
DONT PICK UP: That does sound like Bladie
Gambling Addict: Listen
Gambling Addict: All i know is that blades been real quiet since i said that
Blade: Silver Wolf.
Gambling Addict: And so he speaks!
Blade: Count your days.
You like to fuck with the others by pretending to be them. Blade nearly murdered you because one time you got bored, and decided that slandering his nonexistent image would be ample entertainment.
In minutes, you turned yourself into Blade's lookalike, and spent the afternoon prancing around in a maid dress because what else were you going to use it for? Unfortunately, that also put you as a target for Blade's wrath. Fortunately, you have a lot of experience escaping people you pissed off.
Silver Wolf still has the pictures. Kafka laughed her ass off until you did the exact same thing to her. And that's when she started shooting.
"I can't believe you did this," you sniffed dramatically, fake tears falling from your face. In your hands was what used to be your pride and joy, the beautiful maid dress that you'd spent millions on (lie).
What used to be a gorgeous garment with frills and lace, was now in tatters from Kafka's bullets and Blade's sword. The two aforementioned culprits weren't the slightest bit guilty as they watched you lament over your clothes.
"You should've thought of that before you started walking around like that," Kafka blew at her smoking gun. Blade nodded firmly in agreement, holding his sword close to his chest.
"It was cute!" you huffed, shaking your head. You weren't actually mad at them. You could always buy another dress to mess with them. Besides, you already got what you wanted.
Your gaze met with Silver Wolf's, who grinned back, holding her phone in between her fingers.
None of the Stellaron Hunters know basic first aid, and that includes you. Most of you just slap on a few bandages, some weird smelling ointment, and call it a day. Silver Wolf doesn't even do that, she just downs three bowls of rice and walks off the broken arm like a Sunday hangover.
But one day, just as your luck would have it, you came back to base with an injury that you couldn't just bandage away. No one knew what to do, and you were bleeding out fast. So what did this hardened group of criminals do?
They googled it. They fucking googled it.
Silver Wolf deadass just searched up how to fix you while you were bleeding out next to her. Kafka, to her credit, did hold your hand to try and comfort you (albeit mockingly), and Blade just stood back and watched. If Elio foresaw a way to help you, well, he didn't say anything.
But it all turned out all right in the end. Eventually, Silver Wolf gave up and simply shoved a bowl of her fried rice in front of you. You still don't know how or why, but it somehow worked. It shouldn't have, but it did.
The scene in front of you reminded you of a bunch of school children watching a chemistry experiment for the first time. The Stellaron Hunters crowded around you, eyes trained onto your closing wound with unnerving fascination. Even Blade, who rarely had any emotion at all, was watching you with the faintest glimmer of awe.
"What the hell did you put in that thing?" you turned in disbelief to Silver Wolf, the only unphased person in the room. The hacker was already somewhere else, her thumbs tapping rapidly as she played another one of her rhythm games.
"Trash."
"WHAT." You almost throttled her before she quickly teleported a safe distance away, clutching her phone to her chest.
"Kidding, kidding, no need to get all worked up!" She sighed, clearing a level without looking.
"Just some solid water and protein rice, that's all."
"You mean ice?" You swatted at Kafka, who was poking at where your wound used to be.
"No."
Safe to say, the Stellaron Hunters are an... interesting bunch, to put it lightly. They're all assholes, including you, and seem to thrive over inconveniencing each other. The only time you all can somewhat work together is when you're acting out one of Elio's scripts.
But you'd be lying if you said you hated working at this job. You live for the thrill of things, and being a Hunter was the most fun you've had in a long, long time, even if your coworkers occasionally annoyed you to death.
None of you would ever say it aloud, but you wouldn't trade each other for anything in the world.
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warmerstranger · 6 months
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STARFRUIT PICKS AND CARVINGS
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。°˖ ʚɞ ꒦꒷⩩ Ft. The Astral Express (Trailblazer, March 7th, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt Yang, Pom Pom) x GN! Reader
°°``Marked as and not excluding: Yandere (manipulation, overprotective, controlling behaviors, implied stalking, gaslight, obsession, possessive traits), found family <3
°°``Recommended to read for those 16+, please proceed with caution.
Woo! Finally back :) Himeko is shortest despite being the first part I worked on.. unexpectedly difficult to write for.
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✏ Packed up with unknown origins and left to wander as a fresh face with a gaze filled with wonder and raw sincerity like a piece of paper waiting to write out your own life, you're welcomed with open arms to travel between the stars and treated as if you've been around for a longer than even more than the Conductor themself.
☄Stelle/Caelus (The Funky Sibling)
- The one saving and dragging your ass out when you dive into troubles (particularly that is caused with/by them in the first place). You both be topping the most troublesome duo due to them being a calamitous influence on you, literally before you know it, you're already in it together; doing a little bit silly tomfoolery, antics and trash treasure hunting.
Despite them acting out a deadpan humor 23/7, they're gutsy and all when the situation needs it especially on that one time you're to hide in a closet with them from the Goethe Hotel's resident devil. Hands down they would really give a beating/long roast and rant to whoever is the unlucky person that mistreat you they aren't going to let it slide as long as you're under their watch, you have to restrain them back literally if you even could...! Trailblazer is either the living personification of your inner demons, intrusive thoughts, the very lethal temptations that need to be acted upon with you as the enabler or you can be a little goody-two shoes yourself and be the one affecting them under good impact—to be a reasonable member of the society, that's fine too. You can't change them at their core anyway, they're still their own person with a mind to act as they like, the omen of chaotic authenticity (you still play a big role in determining their behavior structure since they would be swayed easily especially if you ask nicely with a cherry on top and puppy eyes).
They like to gift you random trinkets you would've thought that they stole it off from some high class places or people (they might have) but most are actually from trash cans, they don't tell you that of course unless you ask nicely with a Cherry on top and even then you'll have to go through their original recital of the quote unquote, 'enlightening hard-fought' battles and journeys for obtaining the valuable trinkets.
You can count on them for any shiny secret of the stars/universe for sure, they're up to give you some thoughts-empty philosophical preaching that would leave you both more questions than answers. Onward to another illusion of free choice.
❆ March 7th (The Mouthy Cousin)
- The one treating you to accessories or piece of clothing she thinks you would be fit in or anything that might catch your eyes in the shopping sessions with her. You're mostly being treated as her dress-up doll or best companion for her to dump the juicy gossips or trends she got her hands on depending on her mood, no in-between.
March is always gushing about you one way or another, snapping pictures of you with her together so fast in a row of clicks that you can't really stop her from how... active she is. Surely she's just a harmless big fan of yours. In reality, she absolutely have tons of your candid pictures in her another separate limitless-storage camera. Any expressions, poses, and moments about you are a must she couldn't miss it a sec! She's literally keeping a secret album or scrapbook filled with them she could beat Dan Heng's data bank collection in that category at this point. What you don't know, wouldn't hurt you, right? Sometimes she and the Trailblazer quarrel against each other in terms of borrowing you as a partner/company to go with, like March would maximize all her brain cells potential for any reasons she could make up on that occassion or she would just have to delve in the intense battle of rock-paper-scissors.
She's your reliable source for up-to-date information and all the sensational tidbits, so you're very forced encouraged to count on her at that!
✒ Dan Heng (The Silent but Deadly Brother)
- The voice of reason, the dependable go-to in gathering and tidying up your thoughts, undoing the knots of jumbled up thoughts since he has the most braincell compared to the certain two others. Before you realize it, he's the person to depend on mostly—the closest you can reach out to anytime possible, you could be baring your heart to him and you wouldn't possibly realize when he has already keep it safe to somewhere out of reach from anyone else. Now, you would be holing yourself up more often in his room. Since he has this cultured cool air that makes him seem cool and competent, his words are credible ordinarily and thus influence your decision-making ability more like he would only need to tell you not to do something just in a quiet and clear tone and you could feel your temptation to inflict chaos withdrawed for the time being.
More frequently you might start to see yourself hovering close to Dan Heng or, is it him who has been always there from the first beginning as if knowing all your frequent spot and routes? Somehow you get the highest urge to be well-behaved under someone's silent watchful eyes that felt prickly with uneasiness it's almost like he has you on a leash.
You would be more prone to choose this alternative more than that option, taking up that one method because it's proven effective for you. Dan Heng doesn't need to do anything too drastic, what thoughts have he learned and collected about you are rarely let out too, it's giving him a peaceful satisfaction to know you're secured in his lines of thinking unless you start to go off the rails and gets your well-being threatened, that's when he will step in, revealing the moment you could witness he doesn't actually have that much self-restraint to uphold like the two others.
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❇ Himeko (The Coffee Aunt)
- The one spoiling you rotten, similar to how March is, but in terms of more lavish things, clothes, and including weapons...!? She would every month give you enough allowance for you to splurge on depending how well you're behaving.
In your life, Himeko has become your driving force in a way you might not notice and you would end up only be ashamed of yourself after she gives you this disapproving look while telling you she isn't one to tell you something because she embodies a spirit of being adventurous herself, but she wouldn't be sure if you could do fine yet getting into specifically dangerous things like that. It's up to you nonetheless, she won't stop you, she wouldn't refuse to give a helping hand even in your supposedly own mess you made and if you had learn something you might regret for being involved with... be sure not to let her know or she would keep impelling you towards those things over and over until you get stronger as her way of training so you could face them by yourself that in the end, you might seek more journey and challenging ways of life to bask yourself in...
Of course, you also have the privilege to have her special coffee. In fact, she never stops getting ideas of new blends she could give to you based on your experiences so far—they would give it a more everlasting taste in your mouth that you wouldn't ever forget, don't you think? As reminded of that spacious and overwhelming milky way...
✦ Welt (The Thoughtful Grandpa)
- The one most doting and lenient on you who still keeps you under a protective control. Welt is the perfect balance out of the family; experienced, compassionate, has a boyish charm, sophisticated and wise. He's someone who you can't help but love him simply as the youthful parent he is. Either way, he has become the important part of your life, eager to keep pace with you and find out your latest development or daily journey. He likes to provide you with some of animations mixed of his experiences, everything that had passed up until the current time, your adventure and/or everyday routine as entertainment and even hinted education through clues and points you can take note from whenever you feel like you're in a bind in your life situation. Even just being in his company when you wind down, any conversations with him will result a rich fruitful knowledge and enlightenment philosophy if you let him get carried away with his track of thoughts, though it's still relaxing to hear his voice at least.
There's almost no cons that could trascend past the pros of him overall. No matter the struggles and troubles that you meet, you feel like you can tackle anything and having your hopeful future figured out, laid down to you that the only left thing to do is to believe in it then follow with all the courage you gain from reaching up to this far. Probably since a certain someone has been watching out for you and taking care of you too well as if you're his own child. You may notice Welt is discreet yet quite selective in allowing few people into your life, leading you away from fated encounters with the ones he advised to not get yourself involved, sparing you off the hassle to face a risky battle, and many others that you feel like he's shaping your life sometimes. But it's not like he's all that controlling or restricting, so it should be only wise to just trust him and leaving some responsibilities for him to take on, right? He's the experienced member who acts as if he's from the far off distant future that leaves momentous traces of his presence for you after all...
ᰔᩚ Pom-pom (The House Pet Owner)
- Guardian of the train with their own whole soul, with you as the passenger, they're all the more fussy about you with commands to take care of yourself and not neglect your health if you seem unwell (get ready for a more intensive checkup). At any signs that comes from something off even a slight dust speck or different scent on you will be brought up, interrogated, they need to make sure you're at your best most of the time! They couldn't have you feeling down as well or they would feel (even more depressed throughout the day) -as if they fail to fulfill their main purpose and duty, maybe there could also be something about the train that somehow bug you or dampen your mood...
So it's totally recommended if you depend on them; with some tasks in scope of their abilities (they will make sure to give their all and taking them very seriously), you can tell any nicely worded feedbacks or constructive criticism (if you even have the heart to reprimand them for it, shame on you) and hug them kindly for your needed soft texture of comfort dose (after much convincing, they are not to be treated as a stuffed animal!! but they're most indulgent on you without much consideration, they do appreciate and feel happy for being treated or praised this kindly). Pom-pom also wouldn't want you to tell the others (they still know though) that the conductor has always been giving more bonus rewards for you only.
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formulaforza · 7 months
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05. the smut cut
this is the nsfw cut of chapter 5 of miss americana & the heartbreak prince. this is not a complete chapter. it is purely 18+ smut. warnings: minors dni. oral sex (fem receiving) penetrative sex, unprotected sex. kink free soft sex I believe. correct me if I'm wrong.
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It’s innocent, it is. At least, it starts off that way. It’s just laughing, and then it’s just kissing because they can’t get enough of each other’s laugh, of each other’s lips, of each other. It’s just kissing, until it’s not—until his fingers are pushing up the hem of her tank top and her fingers are knotting into his hair, begging him to make it anything but innocent. 
It’s innocent—right up until she’s thumbing the waistband of his boxers, sliding her hand past the elastic to palm him, to get smiley, shuddered breaths from his lips. It’s innocent—until it isn’t, and his hands are warm and calloused on her breasts and a shiver is running up her spine. When she’s grabbing at the neckline of his shirt and lazily pulling it over his head. When his hand dips into her panties, and his fingers play with her clit and she’s whimpering into his mouth. 
It starts off innocent, but really it’s anything but. It’s anything but.
She rocks her hips against his hand, pushes his head in the direction of her core, burns with every kiss he leaves between her lips and her shorts. She sighs at the loss of contact when he pulls his hand away, but she isn’t insatiable for long, no. Just long enough for him to swiftly pull her shorts and underwear off. 
She lets him take his time with her, to go slow and swallow up every last minute they have to spare together. She wants it committed to memory—every goosebump, ever freckles and vein and breath and hair on his head. To lock it all in a vault for when they’re apart. She wants to savor all of it, needs to. 
He can’t keep his hands off of her, not that it feels like he ever can, but it feels now like he’s trying to prove something, to tell her something without having to tell her. She wonders how long it would take him to trail his fingers along her entire body, to kiss every inch of her with his gorgeous lips. 
He starts at her ankles, kisses all the way up her legs and with each inch he moves closer, her ache grows. It grows and grows and she feels horribly hollow, empty, incomplete and full of blushing butterflies. “You…” he trails against her inner thigh, “so beautiful.” Chris blushes hard under his glare, under his words. So hard that she covers her face to laugh into her hands because her face burns bright red at a simple compliment. “Hey,” he says, and she can hear the pout in his voice, peeks at him through her fingers and drops her head onto her shoulder. 
He locks eyes with her, cocks his head to the side as if to say—cut it out. Let me see you. Her hands fall from her face and she bites her pointer finger with a pure, innocent smile. “You’re teasing me,” she says, and he scoffs. 
He mumbles quietly to himself, like it’s not meant to be spoken, much less heard. But she. She latches on to everything he says. “Je la taquine, dit-elle? Elle a besoin de se regarder dans un putain de miroir.”
“Are you talking trash about me?” She asks, feigning offense. 
“Oui chéri,” he nods. “I am.”
She rolls her eyes, swats at his head between her legs. “How do you say ‘stay focused’ in French?”
He smiles. “Restez concentré.”
“Restez concentré,” she repeats, half-butchered, smiles and bites down on her bottom lip. 
He moves up to kiss the surely stupid look off her face, to whisper against her ear and make her blush again before he situates himself comfortably between her legs, linking an arm around one, hand running along her side and her stomach and her breasts, grabbing for anything he can reach. 
He puts his other hand to use, the pad of his thumb running between her lips teasingly, pushing against her entrance, collecting her slick and spreading it around with drunken eyes and a slack jaw. He’s so pretty like this, between her legs. He’s so pretty always but this, this is really a sight to behold. 
Charles leaves a quick, singular kiss on her clit and she rolls her eyes at his stupid grin, at how visibly proud he is about being a tease. 
His hair points in every which direction, messy from sleep and her fingers. For a moment, she thinks there is something so incredibly comfortable looking about him, thinks about reaching down and fixing the pieces that are shooting out particularly outlandishly, making him look all boyish and sweet. Quickly, quicker than he can act on the thought, he licks a long, slow stripe through her, flat tongued and annoying, and sucks gently on her clit. Her mind is blank but with thoughts of his tongue. 
He laps at her with this feverish, unrelenting, steady pace—sucks and kisses her hair back into arching off the sheets. “Charles,” she sighs, knots her fingers into the hair she can’t believe she’d considered straightening out. “Baby.”
He hums into her curiously, makes her jolt, draws choppy praises from her lips. 
“So good. You’re so—fuck—you’re so good.”
“Yeah?” He asks, moves his fingers delicately, dancing them along the inside of her thigh like a million little butterfly kisses. His other wraps around her torso, strong, holding her steady against the mattress. 
“Yeah,” she nods, and he slides a finger inside her. 
She inhales sharply, and the exhale that follows is less of a breath and more of a whimpered moan. She watches him, the way his eyes are glued to his finger, to where it disappears into her and she doesn’t know if she’s ever felt so pretty, having him look at her like that. Her hips grind against his and he smirks, kisses the inside of her leg, curls his finger into her. 
“Another,” she says, and he complies, sinks another digit into her and returns his mouth to her clit and she’s close. So close. “I’m—” she cuts herself off with a moan. “I’m gonna—” she writhes against the sheets, against his mouth and his fingers and her own body. Her fingers are digging into the linen, leg shaking. 
His other arm is spread over her hips, holds her steady and searches for her hand, interlocks their fingers on her stomach. When he does, she feels him smile against her clit, she feels him fucking smile, and then she’s coming undone, hard—clenching around his fingers and squeezing his hand so tight she wonders if she’ll hurt him. 
His pace slows, but it doesn’t lull, doesn’t stop while her mind returns to her body. Her his jerk against his mouth until she’s grabbing his hair and pulling him up to kiss her, to taste herself on his lips and swallow her breath like it’s her oxygen. 
“Good?” He asks, a cocky smirk on his face.
She nods, breathless and smiley and eager to boost his stupid ego. “Great.”
“You are so fucking hot,” he breathes. “So hot.”
Chris rolls her eyes, wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down to kiss again. He melts into her, the weight of him heavy, caged between his strong arms. She could stay like this, half-smothered and kissing him forever and ever, she thinks.
When she reaches down to feel him, she realizes his boxers are still on. Her hand slides under the waistband to find him already hard, his head wet with precum. It turns her on, him getting so worked up over her. It’s hot. Really hot.
He sucks a bruise into her neck, mumbles curses against her ears and against her lips while she strokes him. “Want you so bad,” she says. “God, so bad.” 
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Wanna feel you. Everywhere.”
He groans, laughs into the space between her neck and her collarbone. “Fuck.”
She pushes against the elastic waistband of his boxers weakly. “Off,” she complains. “Take these off.”
She’s giggly, still riding her post-orgasm high, watching him hurriedly get his boxers off and then he’s back on top of her. He’s perched up on his elbows, cradling her face with both of his hands, moving her hair from her face with his careful smile—the one that makes her all warm and fuzzy and giddy and beautiful. 
“What?” He asks, between quick kisses. 
“I’m just happy,” she says, because she’s not sure there’s a word that comes close to describing how happy she is. She settles for the plain statement and hopes the writing between the lines is in bold, bright colors. 
His smile grows and he kisses her again—her lips, her jaw, her collarbone. “I like you happy,” he mumbles against her skin and she can feel his cock, swollen and twitching at her entrance. Neither of them are oblivious to it, and it makes them both laugh. “You want it, baby?” he asks, already bracing for the answer, lining himself up with her. 
Chris nods. “I want it—please. I want you.”
He sinks into her with a shared sigh, burying his face into her chest with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. The stretch burns in the best way, sweet like honey and so, so good. She feels so full, all remnants of the horrible hollow feeling gone now. Her hands find his hair, they always do, and she tugs him up to kiss her, like always. 
“You’re fucking tight,” he says, “are you okay?”
She nods enthusiastically, “for you. Only for you.”
When he starts to move in slow, deep thrusts, even curses take too much thought. All they can do is kiss, and even that is all breathy and open mouthed and sloppy, drowned with whimpers and moans. He’s hitting just the right angle, knows it too. She can feel him in her toes, steady and secure above her, stealing the air from her lips and leaving behind sweet, sweet sounds. 
She comes around him for a second time, just as hard, and without any warning, just a single fuck that comes out sounding more like a jumble of letters vowels than anything intelligible. He blinks hard and heavy when she does, hips rolling against hers while she pulses around him. He groans against her neck, stills inside her, as deep as the position allows him to, and just feels her. 
“Sorry,” she says into his throat. 
“No,” he stops her before she can get even another word out. “Fuck, never apologize for that.”
“Yeah,” she nods.
“I’m serious.”
“Okay,” she nods, feels suddenly bashful that she ever apologized. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he groans, starts to move again and she can’t stop talking to him, can’t stop telling him just how good he makes her feel. “Fuck. Wanna come with you.”
“Mmhm,” she hums, her hand moving between their bodies to circle her clit, to start helping in the chase of her third. “Please. Want it so bad.”
“You fucking love it, don’t you?”
“I do—fuck—I do.”
“I’m…putain. Fuck,” he laughs, completely and utterly gone and she’s all but there, too. 
“Yeah. I’m right there, give it to me.”
They come together, too overstimulated to speak, to coax the other through it.  Charles is stiff and still and buried inside her. Her back arches off the sheets and she loops her legs around him, pulling him closer with shaky limbs. When they’re through the waves of their orgasms, Charles collapses on Chris, both of them breathless. 
With a messy kiss, he pulls out of her, moves his weight off her without ever feeling far away.  
“Shit,” Chris says, rolls onto her side to face him, props herself up on her elbow and runs her hand through his hair all giggly. He watches her blow her stray hairs out of the way with patient eyes, giving her the space to continue. “You’re so…” Her hair falls back into her face, and she's too tired to do anything about it. 
He tucks it, her hair—neatly and nicely behind her ear like she always does. “So… what?” He laughs.
She doesn’t really know where she was going, because she didn’t really know she was going to start speaking until she did, and the action of him tucking her hair is entirely too romantic for her to think of anything but. “Just, so.”
A sleepy smile pulls on the corner of his lips, like he knows something she doesn’t. “Just so.”
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head back to the chapter
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margarrivergod · 2 months
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Guys the real Jinx has finally JUST begun- and now i’m here to shove my jinx theories down your throat before the plot starts plotting
(potential spoilers ahead)
So I heavily believe that Dans grandma is going ti pass soon, I feel this will be a major breaking point for Dan, and add this with the most recent development with the asswipe Jaekyung and we’re going to get a detached ooc Dan. don’t get me wrong, I love Dan just as he his but I hope this next arc will have him grow more of a spine cause my baby is too much of a people pleaser
Now what could develop from this could go many different ways but I believe that Jaekyung will notice this behavior and it would go one of a few ways (or multiple): he’ll become even more temperamental with dan and they’ll get into some fight and dan will not back down. I could either see this threatening Jaekyung or he’ll be shocked and be “concerned”(probably not concerned but somethjng adjacent to it) Jakeyung will potentially fire dan and dan will be on his merry way, but I could also see Jaekyung being “concerned” from the get go but i consider this unlikely considering how stinky this trash can if a man is- but if Dans grandma does die I could totally see Jaekyung toning down his asshole front for a few seconds a treat Dan with bare minimum respect as his “condolences” (i cannot see him treating Dan with any type of respect, at least not this early in the story so I won’t even entertain the idea)
But with the chase arc coming up and with the hinted kidnapping plot arising I believe that it’s heavily implied that Dan will get kidnapped by these mobster(probably after his potential release from his job with Jaekyung)- but i could totally see this taking a pearl boy turn where Jaekyung himself get grabbed and roughed up with Dan is also grabbed and taken advantage of elsewhere and is made to believe more bullshit- but it’s also possible where it’s just dan or jaekyung taken (i’m leaning more towards dan)- either way this would be the point where Jaekyung realizes and come to turn with his feelings for Dan and goes all alpha on the mobsters (lol)
But of course things won’t be that easy- I think Dan will be, of course, traumatized from all these recent events and not give into Jaekyung and his bullshit so easily. I really hope Dan just doesn’t easily accept him with open arms, I want him to realize how Jaekyung has treated isn’t okay and and stays distant for a bit before giving in, but let’s be honest it could easily go the former as well- but either way I expect there to be snot and tears from Jaekyung’s end- i need to see him groveling on his hands and knees asking for forgiveness
To be honest there’s so many different routes this story could go- Mingwa totally 180 me with this recent plot development- i was NOT expecting there to be a kidnapping trope but bro i’m eating that shit UP- i’m so pumped and excited- i cannot wait ti see where she takes the story
and these r just a few of my theories- i have many more and will probably share them as the story progresses cause i will make my inner thoughts all of your guy’s problem- also keep in mind that i have no idea what i’m talking about- these theories r just theories, i could be totally off the mark but u never know (i’m so anxious to find out)
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yupuffin · 3 months
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One thing about Star Rail that distinguishes it from Genshin is that instead of opening chests and solving puzzles, you explore by interacting with an impressive range of objects in your environment (yes, including the infamous trash cans) and then... engaging in an inner monologue about them, which can get wacky and hilarious with the appropriate flavor text, but sometimes I get stuck in a long and highly uninteresting sequence and wishing I'd never checked. 😅
I think that instead they should let me interact that closely with Dan Heng's face and read dialogue box after dialogue box about how beautiful he is because WOW I AM SO GAY 🏳️‍🌈✨ (to absolutely no one's surprise). What a blessing it is having this man on your team from the very start of the game
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kyoyao · 2 years
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The fictional characters in my head do pay rent, but not with money. They pay with sleepless nights, anxiety that they’ll never be real, and alarming amounts of fan fiction written about them
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aboptosis · 7 years
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if this is a video on dan taking quizzes about dan why am i hearing more about phil
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captnjacksparrow · 3 years
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Hi. Someone told me that Kishi wanted to write a negative character in Naruto's team and that was Sakura. Apparently, some interview of his. It is also pretty clear to me that he doesn't miss ONE chance to diss her character, whether it be in Boruto, Naruto or Shippuden. This made me wonder if Sakura's inner voice, which Kishi gave her saying it would look realistic, was another way of dissing her. Seems to me like this is another attempt of showing how deceptive she actually is. A lot of people think one thing and say another sometimes. But her inner voice Always says the exact opposite thing as her character is. I feel that if she was able to say it as it was, she would have been a better character, more honest if still selfish. Either Kishi doesn't know what realistic women sound like or he just wanted to trash Sakura Right From The Start. What do you think?
I feel that if she was able to say it as it was, she would have been a better character, more honest if still selfish.
Do you really think her inner thoughts would've made her a better character, Anon?
She literally wanted to see Sasuke's Duck when she was 12. Well, in some way, it would've been better for us. Because Sasuke would've rejected her outright in very early stages of the Manga and that would've saved us lots of trouble.
I think Kishi literally fucked her big time intentionally, deliberately, purposefully, consciously and laboriously. Whenever he wants any scape goat to advance the storyline, he used her and threw away like a garbage without any mercy.
Either Kishi doesn't know what realistic women sound like or he just wanted to trash Sakura Right From The Start. What do you think?
Well, none of the women characters are any better in Narutoverse. But atleast, there are some decent characters like Tsunade, Konan who has some ambition and they are very serious about it. Yes, I agree their existence revolve around some men, but when it comes to their ambition, they aim big and was damn serious about it. They don't cry or cower like Sakura. Tsunade adopted Dan’s dream and worked hard to protect the village as the Hokage. Compared to Tsunade, Sakura’s dream is just disgusting.
For Tsunade and Konan, Kishi has written a backstory about how they became what they are, what motivates them and what shaped them.
KONAN
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Come on!!! Konan just appears in very few episodes but we know a lot about her. Kishi literally wrote her to fight with the Main Villain of the series on an equal ground and she almost succeeded in killing him. Obito could only save himself because of Izanagi, a jutsu that can give him life by losing his eyesight. Plus, her jutsu is very interesting and delightful.
This shows, Kishi is not really bad at designing woman characters. He really used his brain to think about a story for Konan which made us empathize with her even though she belongs to Akatsuki. Why couldn't he do that for Sakura?? Even Orochimaru has a backstory.
So, to sum up the prospectus of Konan
Backstory: A war orphan happened to meet Yahiko and Nagato and formed her world around them
Ambition: To bring peace to this world by weaponizing Tailed Beast along with Nagato. 
Personality: Generally warm, silently ruthless, a gentle girl. Most importantly, a very good friend, good team player. A girl who place more importance on the goal rather than romance, even though she loved yahiko.
Achievements: The only female Akatsuki member, One-on-One battle with Obito, the Main villain and almost killed him. 
TEMARI
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The closest thing to a realistic woman character in Narutoverse is Temari. She is strong and intelligent with a bold attitude. She teases Shikamaru as a Crybaby and never wanted to play romance with him all the times. She wants both of her brothers to pay heed to her advice. She wants recognition among her own brothers. I've personally seen these kind of women in my Workplace and in my extended Family as well. 
Prospectus of Temari:
Backstory : Nothing specific to her. But she has a brother who was made into a Jinchurikki and she doesn't know how to deal with it.
Ambition : Recognition from her Brothers. Most importantly listen to her advice.
Personality : Willful, strong, bold. IDGAF attitude.
Achievements : Lead a part of the unit in 4th Shinobi World War, a Deux ex Machina entry to save Shikamaru in Sasuke retrieval Arc, interesting fight in Chunin Exams with Shikamaru.
So, I think Kishi knows how to write some 90% realistic woman characters. It's just that he didn't want to do that for Sakura.
INO
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Lets take Ino, She started out very similar to Sakura, a Sasuke fangirl minus the Horniness. But somehow she seems reasonable most of the times in part 1, say, the time when she volunteered to help Team 7 in the Forest of the death, the time when she told Sakura to cheer up for Naruto in the Chunin Exams and her flashback where she protected Sakura from bullies.
Though not having a big development in first half of Shippuden, she slayed everyone in the War Arc. I mean, Team Ino-Shika-Cho was made to fight an emotional battle with their Edo Tensei’ed Asuma Sensei and a calculative battle with Kinkaku and Ginkaku brothers, who killed Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama.
Did it stop here?
Man, She literally connected everyone through her Mind Transmission Jutsu. Most importantly, she was sought by the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama himself. This is the greatest acknowledgement she could ever receive. What’s more important here is, She lost her Father just some hours ago and she had the mental strength to pull herself back and helped everyone in the war.
If Kishimoto can write something impressive for a side character whose screen time was too less, Why didn’t he write something like this for Sakura, a central character???
Yes, Ino started out as a fangirl with no purpose but she ended up as the best female ninja in Konoha considering her contributions in the war. She is literally handling the Konoha Sensory System today in Boruto Manga along with a flower shop and a decent medical jutsu. Or May I say she is the only female ninja whom Naruto contacts often in the Manga??
So, Ino started as a copy of Sakura and ended up as someone who can step up to the occasion when the mentor figure (her dad) in her life was gone. She started as a very good friend and ended up as that same good friend.
[[Fun Fact: Naruto never shared a single panel with Sakura yet, in the Boruto Manga.]]
Prospectus of Ino :
Backstory : Nothing specific to mention.
Ambition : Nothing specific.
Personality : Standing up for someone she has no business with, Excellent Team Player, A genuine and amazing friend for Shikamaru and Choji, even towards Sakura. Sensible.
Achievements : Fought Edo version Asuma, defeated Kinkaku Ginkaku brothers, stood up for Team 7 in chunin exams arc, connected every shinobi using her Jutsu in the World War, handling Konoha Sensory System, going on for village Missions sometimes, Sought by Hashirama in 4th Shinobi World War.
SAKURA
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I can’t write about her here, because I am covering her in a separate post. 
In Short, Sakura started as a bitch towards Naruto and desired Sasuke’s duck. She ended up as an absolute bitch towards Naruto and got Sasuke’s Duck by using Naruto.
What’s Sakura doing today as compared to all the women above?
Going horny over Sasuke even at age 32, a medical ninja in name but only whenever Sasuke or Sarada gets injured, a non existent in the Boruto Manga.
Prospectus of Sakura
Backstory : Nothing. Got Bullied for having large Forehead.
Ambition: Sasuke-Kun’s Duck
Personality: Annoying, Useless, Terrible friend, terrible mother, Fan Girlish wife, Horrible Team Player, never stood up for anyone, created rivalry with her friend for a boy, ditched Naruto after getting Sasuke, a useless housewife, crying like a fucking shit despite not having faced any difficulties.
Achievements: Fought Sasori along with Granny Chiyo, praised by Hashirama but only to fall flat in less than a minute by wetting over Sasuke-Kun.
[[Am sorry, Being a medical ninja, healing nameless fodders or Naruto cannot be considered as achievements... Because that’s her fucking job and Naruto can heal on his own. Unless, Sakura did something like Tsunade, like getting stabs relentlessly, standing up, fighting without giving up, saving the entire village... Sakura summoning Katsuyu in the shinobi world war means jackshit]]
At the end of the day, Konan’s prospectus seems better and I can hire her as a Ninja to do anything. Ino is even more better with amazing jutsus and good mental integrity.
For a central character, Sakura’s prospectus seems to be the absolutely worst. There’s nothing good about her. Never did anything helpful for Sasuke, Naruto, Kakashi, Tsunade or the Village.  A series which placed it absolute priority on Friendships and Bonds, Sakura has never been a decent friend for anyone, which almost feels like she was going against the theme of the series.
“In the Ninja World, those who don’t follow the rules are known as Scum. But then, those who don’t take care of their comrades are worst than scum”
Sakura is worse than scum.
Damn!!!! Say whatever you want about Madara and Obito, they are the best example for ‘How to be a loyal friend and a lover? (Whatever seems to fit)’. 
However childish it may be, Obito started the war over Rin and his Team including Kakashi and Minato. Obito gave his Sharingan to Kakashi and never took it back even though he had the chance. Moreover, He gave his life for Kakashi even as a 12 year old. What’s not to admire?
Someone told me that Kishi wanted to write a negative character in Naruto's team and that was Sakura.
I don’t know if this is true, Anon. But I will believe this at any day. She was the only person who was never loyal to anyone, even to herself compared to all the characters in the series.
There is no way someone can screw up a central character like this citing excuses like ‘I don’t know how to write women character’. I mean, I haven’t seen any author did this much damage to the main character that travels along the Titular character for years, but learnt nothing. Naruto was crying like a child when Gaara was dead. He did it before everyone including Sakura. How come she watched everything and still couldn’t change her attitude? 
Kishi used his brain to write a character transformation for Ino in the War Arc. Like, Ino lost her father but without giving into despair, she pulled herself up and connected all the shinobis to perform Doton Weaving Sign to rise Earth walls. 
Kishi again used his brain to make Hashirama calls out Ino for help and connect all shinobis and their heart. She helped everyone to see Naruto’s heart.
But the same Kishi wrote Sakura to punch Juubi Clones and then immediately he made her to wet over Sasuke.
The same Kishi wrote Sakura to get stabbed by Madara and again made her to wet over Sasuke’s attention.
I think this was planned and very deliberate. It was very evident from the way how he treated other women characters as mentioned above.
I think Kishi just wanted to trash Sakura Right From The Start and never planned to redeem her. And there is not one quality that I can admire about her or relate with her. Standing next to Naruto and Sasuke who promised to change the Shinobi world, she never did anything in the end other than shamelessly blushing at Sasuke to get into his pants during his Journey.
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soviet-whale · 3 years
Text
Danielle Wilds
i’ve decided to emerge from the void and give some of my dan hcs bc i LOVE her
she ALWAYS has the best nails
she used to let one of her stage sisters practice on her hands all the time
that same stage sister now has a small salon in columbia and dan goes up there once every two weeks to get the FRESHEST sets
even allison is jealous
she gets short, long, muted colors, bright colors, patterns, you name it she’s had it, and they never get in the way of her playing
she’s got three tattoos-a small #1 on the inside of her left pinky, a tube of lipstick on her inner right elbow, and “Forever is composed of nows.
 -Emily Dickinson” on her upper right back
she’s a tea drinker for sure
her alcoholic beveridge of choice is a margarita
she sucks at any video game ever
but she’s really competitive
so she’s always talking mad trash while being in last place
“yeah i just dodged that blue shell bitch, what are you going to do about it? cry?”
“i’m two laps ahead of you”
her pep talks? insanely effective, both on and off the court
her endless self-esteem and confidence just ooze into the people around her
idk and idc what the extra content says about her major, that lady is pre-med
she wants to be a gynecologist for sure because she loves helping women and making them feel seen, validated, and listened to
she’s just so smart and great with people...major doctor vibes
i really don’t see her going on to play professional exy after college
i think she loves the sport but she wants to settle down and have a family, and she doesn’t love the idea of bouncing from team to team and city to city
the music she listens to is like exclusively grunge
she makes most of her own clothes
she loves finding eclectic fabrics, sewing things together, and making patchwork clothing that shouldn’t look good but somehow does when it’s on her
i know aftg is set in the 2000s but if it weren’t...bucket hat queen
also biker shorts
she owns more pairs of vans than aaron does (which is saying a LOT)
baking is her one true passion
she likes to experiment and give the first bite of whatever she makes to renee because she knows renee will be positive
she gives the second bite to allison because she wants to know if it’s actually tasty or not, and allison never sugar coats anything ever
most of the time it’s good, though
she’s a prankster!! 
once, she filled the boys’ dorm with rubber ducks for no reason except mischief
she covered every surface with them, stuck them in drawers, hid them in cracks and crevices
the boys were finding ducks in strange places until they moved out
her secret talent is that she’s insanely good at the harmonica
no one knows how or why she learned
and again, she doesn’t listen to anything other than grunge
but once when matt was playing the guitar she came in with a harmonica in the same key and just. nailed it. 
she’s such a fun person, but she’s also what her friends call “the intervener”
she’s not afraid to call anyone on their shit or have a serious discussion about self-destructive tendencies
she’s not very subtle about it, which can really piss people off, but in the end she only ever yells at people because she loves them and wants the best for them, so nobody ever stays mad
she usually pulls a harmless prank to speed up the forgiveness process
(which sometimes backfires horribly)
but she’s incredible
i love her with all my heart
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beeblackburn · 3 years
Note
The First Law for the fandom ask! 😁
The first character I ever fell in love with: In hindsight, Logen Ninefingers, given how much he eviscerates his character trope so completely even then, but in the immediate, at the time, sense? The moment Sand dan Glokta first complained about the steps, my heart was gripped and it took awhile.
A character that I used to love/like, but now do not: On a personal level, too many to count, everyone’s either such a piece of shit or were written sympathetically enough before Abercrombie knocked the pedestal off them in this series. That being said, Sand dan Glokta. I still really like him, partly thanks to The Trouble with Peace and one hell of a choice scene, but after what he did near the end of Last Argument of Kings, and revising the series, I can’t help, but realize what I liked about him was the potential that he’d grow a heart and stop doing awful things, and him doubling down at the end was disappointing, if not surprising.
A ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: Jezal/Ardee. It was cute when I first read it, and I generally think Jezal had enough strength of character to try to do right by her, if the kingmaking business hadn’t been a thing, but I think it’s super telling that, upon being king, he thought about making her his mistress instead of realizing that wouldn’t have placated Ardee and she’d be bitter about the broken promise. In the end, they never fully knew each other, Jezal never knew the full extent of Ardee’s past, and what attracted them to each other was the dream of something better rather than anything substantial. I pity them, but they absolutely wouldn’t have worked out like Glokta/Ardee ended up doing.
My ultimate favorite character™: Logen “The Bloody-Nine” Ninefingers. But Black Calder and Crown Prince Orso are really close behind and they could easily climb overhead Logen with The Wisdom of Crowds. I’m expecting it with Crown Prince Orso, depending on how his character goes.
Prettiest character: Probably Crown Prince Orso? I know Leo dan Brock, Jappo mon Rogont Murcatto, and Stour Nightfall (though Jappo and Stour’s more my type) are objectively more handsome, but I like a little pudge in my handsome boys and Orso’s got that while having a prettier personality.
My most hated character: Collem West, easily, but I think Malacus Quai could've been better, character-wise.
My OTP: Everyone/Therapy. Seriously, Shy/Temple. Abercrombie can write some really sweet couples for such a self-professed cynic, given Calder/Seff, Bethod/Ursi, and Shenkt/Vitari.
My NOTP: Bayaz/Power. Seriously, Shev/Carcolf. Shev, please stop going after someone you know is toxic. Walk away and close that door forever. You deserve so much better, you gay babe.
Favorite episode: Red Country or The Heroes. 
Red Country has such a somber tone of bittersweet past and longing for redemption that I just ate up and broke my heart against. Lamb, Temple, Cosca, Shivers, Shy and the Felllowship, so many people want to do better from their pasts like in his past books but this time, maybe, just maybe, Abercrombie lets some of them win against their inner demons. It’s such a haunting book, men with the ghosts of their pasts hanging around them and the inevitability of changing times creeping onto them as they trek the Near and Far Country.
The Heroes is basically a typical cookie-cutter war story except it’s Abercrombie writing it. The entire Northern subplot of The First Law distilled into a narratively and thematically tight book, with some tremendously strong supporting characters, some of my favorite POVs (PRINCE CALDER! FINREE DAN BROCK! BREMER DAN GORST!) and carrying some of my favorite scenes of the entire series! It’s such a treat and I’ve loved each and all of my five rereads. This book puts all other war stories to shame for not even coming close.
Saddest death: Count Foscar (Monza relating him to the boy Benna was, laughing in the wheat, breaks me every time). Antaup (how dare you take a chapter to establish how heartbreaking a cock-blocker’s death would be, Abercrombie!), Tul Duru Thunderhead and Scale Ironhand. Oh, those hurt. Those hurt so much. And, despite how much of a shithead he was, Nicomo Cosca’s death hit me surprisingly hard. Sad and pathetic and broken.
Favorite season: Tricky. Because The Great Leveller and The Age of Madness have my favorite books in the entire series and the former’s got The Heroes and Red Country... but it’s also got Best Served Cold, which was I admittedly colder (heh) on. I’ll take the bullet that it’s a me problem and it’s still a fundamentally well-written book. The latter’s got A Little Hatred, which was a far better The Blade Itself in some ways, and, especially The Trouble with Peace, which was a roller-goddamn-coaster of a book with absolutely some of my favorite material by far. I’d say The Great Leveller for now, but I’m holding my breath on The Age of Madness usurping The Great Leveller in the end, given The Wisdom of Crowds sounds like it’s getting into all the revolutionary and freaky stuff I love about the trilogy, a relentless inferno for society and the soul.
Least favorite season: Look, I love every book in the Circle of the World, but The First Law was the result of Abercrombie stretching his legs for the first time, writing-wise, and it shows. Logen’s wife and children never fully breathe as a necessary part of him and his early magic shows growing pains in Abercrombie’s writing, West’s material isn’t as incisive a character deconstruction as it could’ve been (dude should’ve been more insidiously a piece of shit in his mind to subvert his “good commoner” trope), Dogman’s only gets by himself particularly interesting at the leg end of Last Argument of Kings, and Craw does his character better I’d say, Cathil and Ferro were underwritten (though I think Ferro’s got interesting stuff in her POV), and everything to do with Terez. Just. That. Ugh. The writing bones are solid and the main trio, Logen, Glokta, and Jezal, are all wonderful POVs, but I think it’s safe to say The First Law is Abercrombie’s freshmen writing, compared to his more affecting material in The Great Leveller and The Age of Madness.
Character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: ... Shivers? I do love him in The Heroes, Red Country, and The Age of Madness, but it always drives me a little crazy how much Shivers’ worsening moral decline is linked to Monza fucking Rogont and not him instead, making him out to be an entitled hyper-jealous asshole, and I ended up being disgusted by him. Add in the fact that he knew what he was getting into when he took a violent job and kept going, despite at least two targets, and kept caving into Monza’s higher payments, Shivers was always a piece of shit in his own right. He fell, he wasn’t pushed by Monza. I like enough of Shivers’ Best Served Cold material, but I just like his later material far more, even if I respect his earlier journey.
That being said, if he sacrifices himself for Rikke’s life in The Wisdom of Crowds, I’m going to rescind all this, because that’s the sort of perfect grace note to the anti-Logen and paaaaaaaaaaaaain. So let’s just go with Threetrees because, by god, he’s a relative snooze compared to the other “straight edges” of the series.
My ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: This could define almost anyone in this series, frankly. I guess Logen or Gorst? I really love their material, but they both definitely belong in a landfill.
My ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: Can it be anyone but Crown Prince Orso? Dude’s the only one in this world who thinks “there’s a moral question” to rulership aloud to another and isn’t homophobic, racist, or sexist (looking at you, Leo). Even Calder’s got murdering Forley and Reachey in his dark deeds and Temple’s spent years helping Cosca, which... shudders.
My ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: Monza/Shivers. It’s got some good material and I really hope they can make peace in The Wisdom of Crowds, but also *waves hands* everything else about them, honestly. God, they really did both suck to each other.
Also, Leo/Stour. It’s so wrong, yet so right. I don’t even know if it’d be hate-fucking if they got together at this point, but these two morrions deserve each other.
My ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: Jurand/Glaward, Rikke/Orso, and Cas/Vick? They’re pretty cute and could easily give each other some happiness, I feel.
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tabloidtoc · 3 years
Text
Star, March 1
You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks
Cover: Humiliated Jennifer Lopez used for money and fame by Alex Rodriguez
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Page 1: Princess Eugenie and her husband Jack Brooksbank, who is a UK ambassador for George Clooney and Rande Gerber's tequila brand, welcomed a son on February 9 at London's Portland Hospital
Page 2: Contents, Robin Thicke in front of a piano at Gold Diggers studio in L.A.
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Page 3: Star Shots -- Serena Williams honored late Olympic gold medalist Florence Griffith Joyner by rocking a one-legged Nike catsuit at the first day of the Australian open, Chrissy Metz brought some vibrancy to the virtual SCAD aTVFest where she discussed This Is Us and was honored with the Vanguard Award, Olivia Culpo checked out the view before heading to the Shaq Bowl in Tampa
Page 4: Inside Britney Spears' nightmare -- a shocking new documentary exposes how Britney was used and abused by people she trusted -- Britney's unable to communicate with fans directly without permission -- fans flooded Justin Timberlake's Instagram to demand an apology for what one called profiting from trashing a woman
Page 5: Facing a lawsuit from her estranged older sister has rattled Mariah Carey -- Alison Carey alleged to a NYC court that Mariah had intentionally inflicted emotional distress by writing about her in the 2020 tell-all The Meaning of Mariah Carey and Alison is seeking $1.25 million after the singer accused her of, among other things, throwing boiling hot tea on her and trying to sell a 12-year-old Mariah to a pimp -- now Mariah has become wary of even those in her inner circle and is making longtime employees re-interview for their jobs -- Mariah's always been on the paranoid side but everyone is a suspect now and she's grilling everyone from bodyguards to chefs to stylists and household staff who have been with her for years and if anyone pushes back they are shown the door -- her great fear is that people could cross over and spill secrets to the enemy because she's been caught off guard before by those she trusted
* Catching ZZZs has become a real problem for Kelly Clarkson -- between her gig as a daytime host, trying to sell homes in Nashville and Encino, and battling her ex Brandon Blackstock over custody of their two kids, she is beyond stressed and she can't sleep and nothing works; the most shut-eye she gets is two to three hours -- it's gotten so bad she's even tried hypnotherapy but her workaholic brain outwits it -- meanwhile her legal woes including a lawsuit with her husband and ex father-in-law's talent agency are getting nastier and Brandon has told her in no uncertain terms that he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants which is a ton of money and time with the kids
* She was the most loathed mother in America and now Casey Anthony wants her say -- 10 years after she was acquitted of murdering her two-year-old daughter Caylee, Casey is making a documentary about the trial and she thinks she can clear her name -- she's not looking for sympathy but she believes she's a victim too and was unfairly convicted in the public eye -- she is planning on dropping bombshells in the doc including her take on the theory that the toddler accidentally drowned in the family pool as well as shocking secrets about her own abusive upbringing but don't expect much remorse
Page 6: Just over a year after her father Kobe Bryant and sister Gianna Bryant perished in a tragic helicopter crash, Natalia Bryant who is Kobe's oldest daughter, has signed a modeling contract with IMG Models who also represent Bella Hadid and Gigi Hadid and the just signed Inauguration standout poet Amanda Gorman
* Rumer Willis was heartbroken when her months-long relationship with Armie Hammer fizzled out in December but after harrowing reports of Armie's alleged abuse of women including asking to barbecue their ribs and carry their severed toes in his pocket, Rumer is telling friends she feels lucky -- she wanted to defend him when the cannibalism stories first came out because she thought they were outrageous and now she feels badly for all of the victims and she's really grateful she didn't get caught up in the Armie nightmare
* Star Spots the Stars -- Eva Longoria, Mandy Moore, Demi Lovato, Dan Levy, Dorinda Medley
Page 8: Star Shots -- Meg Ryan wore some wide-legged trousers and a cute cap on a nature walk in Santa Barbara, Gavin Rossdale wore pink socks while playing tennis in L.A., Ciara holding six-month-old son Win during a family getaway to Hawaii
Page 9: Delilah Belle Hamlin and Love Island's Eyal Booker removed their masks for a quick street smooch during a coffee date in L.A., Sofia Richie enjoyed some PDA with shipping heir Gil Ofer in Miami
Page 12: Kate Upton doing yoga, Tia Mowry-Hardrict and her husband Cory Hardrict shared dishwashing duty after cooking at home, Robin Roberts tasted a treat on Good Morning America in New York City
Page 13: Pregnant Brittany Cartwright brought her dog along to retrieve the mail in L.A., Victoria Justice showed off her toned tummy post-workout in L.A.
Page 14: Goldie Hawn turned quality time with granddaughter Rani into a workout toting her in a backpack, Madonna and Guy Ritchie's son Rocco Ritchie waded in during a vacation in Tulum in Mexico, Lucy Hale on a stroll with her dog Elvis in L.A.
Page 16: Chris Noth put in a day's work on The Equalizer in Paterson in New Jersey, Flavor Flav and Flo Rida at The Super Glow Super Bowl kick-off party in Tampa, Bradley Cooper kept daughter Lea close as the two ran errands in NYC
Page 17: More than a week after celebrating 18 months of sobriety Lily Allen enjoyed a snack on-the-go in London, Jessica Alba lifted her son Hayes while riding scooters with husband Cash Warren in Beverly Hills
Page 18: Normal or Not? Cody Simpson got physical with new girlfriend Marloes Stevens during a romantic getaway in St. Barts -- normal, Selling Sunset's Christine Quinn picking up a portrait of herself in L.A. -- normal, Jack Black raised Thor's hammer in a parody posted on Instagram prompting Chris Hemsworth to call it the greatest thing he's ever seen -- not normal
Page 19: The Crown's Emma Corrin looked intrigued by a leafy object she stumbled upon during a stroll in London -- not normal, Sarah Jessica Parker kicked back in heels during a break from assisting shoppers at her flagship store in NYC -- not normal
Page 20: Fashion -- stars look sweet in tiered dresses -- Maude Apatow, Logan Browning, Margot Robbie
Page 21: Julianne Moore, Camila Morrone, Saoirse Ronan
Page 24: After months of quietly dating, Aaron Rodgers and Shailene Woodley are ready to marry and they announced it in the most low-key way possible and the couple are madly in love and feel unequivocally that this is the real deal -- Aaron and Shailene were friends long before sparks flew in August last year and having to endure a long-distance romance during football season actually made their bond stronger -- Aaron and Shailene are already planning to start a family and they're at that stage when they feel ready to be parents and are keen to have a baby
Page 25: Olivia Wilde and Harry Styles have found another dynamic duo to spend their downtime with which is Florence Pugh and Zach Braff -- the foursome hit it off on the set of Don't Worry, Darling which Olivia is directing and in which Florence and Harry star -- they have the best time together and know how to forget the world outside -- as it turns out bearing witness to Florence and Zach's happy relationship despite their 20-year age difference played a part in Olivia taking a chance on dating Harry who is nine years her junior following her split from Jason Sudeikis and seeing them together inspired Olivia to go for it with Harry and she's so glad she did
* While some couples are overwhelmed being with their kids 24/7 in lockdown, Prince William and Duchess Kate have enjoyed the extended family time with Prince George, Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis -- having the kids at home during the pandemic has given Kate baby fever and she loves being around them and wants to have one more and she and William are trying for another, with Kate saying she's hoping for a girl -- as for raising four young kids, the pair are up to the challenge because Kate's a pro at multitasking and William is a devoted dad and they'll split parenting duties
* Matt Damon is hoping a change of scenery will save his rocky 17-year relationship with wife Luciana Barroso as the couple and their three girls have set up house in a lavish $7000-a-night rental in Australia's tony Byron Bay while the actor films Thor: Love and Thunder -- the beachy new surroundings are just what the couple needs after hitting a rough patch and Matt is working overtime to make sure Luciana enjoys herself Down Under by arranging date nights and buying gifts for her to open every day and even when he's working he's got time set aside for just them and the gestures seem to be working and it's the shot in the arm they both needed
Page 26: Cover Story -- Jennifer Lopez humiliated and used -- shocking cheating allegations rock J.Lo's world as fiance Alex Rodriguez's mistress Madison LeCroy tells all -- while Jennifer is putting on a brave face the affair rumors are devastating to her whether she admits it or not -- after revealing she and Alex exchanged DMs Madison said she doesn't want anything bad for his family or for hers -- Alex says it was innocent and that nothing happened but Jennifer is not fully buying it -- Jennifer and Alex's relationship is personal but it's also business; together, their fortunes have doubled
Page 30: Chip and Joanna Gaines -- inside our farmhouse reno -- Chip and Jo are expanding and renovating their Waco home and it may be their toughest job yet
Page 32: Celeb Parenting Fails -- these celebrity moms and dads share their hilarious hapless moments -- Anne Hathaway, Brad Pitt
Page 33: Willie Geist, Mila Kunis, Pink
Page 48: Parting Shot -- Despite it being her first concert in over a year, Miley Cyrus was ready to rock while headlining the TikTok Tailgate Super Bowl pre-show event in Tampa -- the show treated 7500 Florida-based healthcare workers to a set that included guest appearances by Joan Jett and Billy Idol, who both collaborated on Miley's latest album
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musicsavedmylife16 · 3 years
Text
Some of my favourite Dan Howell quotes:
“Fight me, you ceramic bitch!”
“I am the human fucking embodiment of Winnie the Pooh”
“I’m going for the whirlpool that represents the inner torment in my soul”
“I’m going to choke myself. Completely non-kink related. I just want death”
“Holy mother of rectangles!”
“I’m an awkward, sexually ambiguous nerd”
“I’m the living embodiment of ‘it could be worse’”
“Sand... Fuck off”
“I’m about as violent and intimidating as a pink butterfly that’s stuck on a marshmallow”
“I’m just a humble trash can trying to roll my way through life”
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agapantoblu · 4 years
Note
I was wondering if you’re going to continue the panicked dad! AU? I’m not rushing you or asking you to update of course, I’m just curious, I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you!
I receive quite a few messages about this story, and believe me I know I’m being slow as fuck with the updates. Be patients with me, please? You’re so kind and I have this chapter ready so here we are!
Also, I’m perfectly aware I said Seth was Allison’s ex who died of overdose. Try and stop me now, I’ve lost even the last fuck I gave about reasonably continuity with the books.
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Check out the tag TFCPanickedDad!AU (though Tumblr seems to hate me every so often) or the whole story on AO3!
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They take Andrew away. They tell Nicky to leave the hospital. Voices pile up in his head, overlapped by memories and nightmares and mantras he’d sworn himself he’d never listen to again.
It’s all mechanical after that.
He drives home, he packs a bag for Andrew and then watches emptily as Chuck unmakes it to move all its contents into a plastic bag. Nicky watches quietly.
They get a bag for Aaron too. The room looks emptier than ever when he stares at it from the door.
“Hey, buddy.”
Either Matt’s hands are bigger than he remembers or he shrunk in the past few hours. Probably the latter, because Nicky truly feels small, smaller, the smallest he’s ever been, and weak.
Matt spins him around and meets no resistance — what’s the point?, they took his kids — and leads him through the flat. In the corridor outside, Jean is squeezing the life out of Renee’s shirt and his eyes are far away and glassy.
Stephanie reaches out to touch Nicky’s face soberly. “You shouldn’t be alone, right now.”
And ain’t that fucking funny? Because Nicky is. He fucking is because his parents hate him and they took his kids. They took his kids.
“You’re staying with us for a bit,” Matt says, and Nicky can’t read his tone, mainly because he can’t be bothered to. “Come on. We’ll get out of this, somehow.”
Except there’s nothing to get out of, except his two-bedroom apartment that now has one room and two twin-beds in excess, because they took his kids.
They took his kids.
They took his kids.
Andrew and Aaron. His kids. His babies. They took them. From him. Because he wasn’t— He wasn’t good enough, smart enough, attentive enough. He was neglectful and distracted and selfish and he lost them because they would be so much better off with anyone else than him, he is a fuck-up, a disgrace, a sinner, he is—
They took his kids.
They took his kids, they took his kids, they took his—
Nicky has scars. He doesn’t pay them much mind because he doesn’t have the time to bother with such tiny details when he’s working to support two kids.
He doesn’t have two kids to support now, so he looks at them in the bathroom, in the guest bedroom in Matt and Dan’s apartment.
Some are years old and shaped like lightening under his skin in quarter-of-dollar rounds on his thighs and crotch. Some are older yet and almost faded, thinnest crisscrosses on his inner thighs and high on his forearms, almost at the elbows. He used to wear plastic bands around his wrists to snap against his skin whenever he had a bad thought, and they never left permanent marks but he can feel the skin burn anyway.
It was always bound to happen, says a voice in his head. It’s calm and collected and reasonable and sounds like his father’s preaching. You were never a good choice for them and social services aren’t dumb, they were bound to see it eventually. What, did you think you were fooling anyone?
He stands in front of the bathroom and watches his face reflected in the mirror.
He’s not going to cut himself again. He’s over that and he’s never giving the twins that kind of burden. Even if they took them away and he’s not going to— He’s not going to—
What if he never sees them again?
Wymack drags him out of the bathroom that he’s still crying and trashing and screaming. Dan looks like she’s staring at a ghost and she’s holding Matt in her arms.
Nicky doesn’t know. How long it has been, what everyone is doing here, where are the twins. How Aaron is. Lord, he doesn’t know how Aaron is.
He blacks out.
He comes to with a stinging cheek and gasps in his ears.
“Allison, for fuck’s sake!“ Dan’s hissing, but Nicky can’t see her because Allison’s face is all up in his and she’s seething.
In a low, poisonous voice she asks, “Are you done?” Nicky hiccups and lowers his eyes, but she grabs his face, his cheeks, and forces him to stare back at her. “No,” she growls. “Are you. Fucking. Done.“
He doesn’t know.
“This is your last quarter of hour, Hemmick. I’m letting you cry the last of it out now and when the fifteen minutes are up you better have your ass in the shower or I swear to fucking God I’ll drag you there myself and soak you into the coldest water until you turn into a popsicle or grow back a brain, you heard me?”
Just barely.
When he stands up and moves to the bathroom, he doesn’t really believe he’s going to shower. He’s planning on staying in front of the mirror and cry some more, because that’s all he’s been doing lately; except that he steps in and the phone in his pocket is buzzing with a notification from Instagram. It’s so outright absurd he feels an hysterical laughter build up in his chest and he has to bite his own knuckles not to let it out.
It says, Erik Klose, and it’s an aesthetic picture of the sight from the window of what Nicky has learnt to recognise as Erik’s office.
He chokes on his breath.
Erik’s office at the law firm. The law firm where he practices as a lawyer with specialisation in Family Law.
Family Law.
It’s the thinnest wall coming down to let the water of the dam wash away every logical reasoning, every logistic problem, any vicious voice. It drags his finger over to type a context-less, Thank you, and then his whole body out of the bathroom and Allison regards him with an arched brow, but he ignores her.
For the first time in a while, Nicky takes in the world around him.
Matt is pale as a sheet and curled over Dan as she holds him by the waist and kiss his shoulder in reassurance. Renee is there too, sitting on the armchair and looking over the situation quietly, expression just a shade darker than her usual, just enough to be terrifying. Wymack looks so much older than he did a week ago.
They’re all here. All except Roland, and God, he didn’t even tell Roland.
He wouldn’t know what to tell him.
He says, “I need to know about Aaron,” and his voice is low and cracked and dusty like an broken frame hidden in the attic. “And I need a loan.“
Allison doesn’t even blink. “Glad to see we got a step one. You think you can hold yourself together now, or do I need to slap you again?”
Nicky touches his cheek, which is still smarting from the first hit. He says, “maybe,” but he sits down on the couch and runs hands over his face.
Renee stands up quietly. “I’ll make coffee.”
They all settle.
Finding out about Aaron is actually surprisingly easy. Nicky only has to spam call Chuck’s phone for an hour before the man gives up.
“Took you about time,” he says, though, as if what they’re doing was perfectly normal. “He’s out of the woods, by the way. They’re keeping him in for seventy-two hours at least, then he’ll have some check-ups to go to, not to mention mandatory therapy to make sure this doesn’t have any lasting consequences on his psyche, but they’re planning on discharging him soon.”
Breathing comes a bit easier. He can smell coffee and closed air. He’s tired. “What about Andrew?”
He’s at the window in the kitchen, because in the living room Dan and Renee are writing down names of people they know, and Matt and Wymack went over to Nicky’s to get him some stuff and check what’s missing from the twins’. Allison is in the bedroom because she’s yelling at her lawyers.
Chuck sighs. “He’s in a foster home, at the moment.”
“A foster home?! For fuck’s sake, Chuck, he’s—“
“It was the best option at the moment, Nicholas,” there’s a edge in his voice, a bit of anger steeping through no matter what how hard he tried to keep it in. ”Your parents were insisting I let them have him, but I’m not sure it would have been a good idea.”
Andrew’s coming to terms with his sexuality hadn’t been as struggling and hard and painful as Nicky’s, but it hadn’t been easy either. He’d seen the consequences of hatred on his cousin’s skin and the hurt from Drake had taken so long to resolve. Luther’s hands on Andrew were a nightmare that had woken Nicky up at night even before his father came into the picture for real.
He gulps. “You can’t let that happen, Chuck. You really, really, can’t let that happen.”
“I’m trying to do what’s best for Andrew,” which isn’t an outright yes, but it’s as close as Chuck will get to admit it. “What did you really call me for?”
About that. “I just wanted to warn you.” And how hard it is to believe this, even as he says the words himself. “I’m taking this to court. I want the twins back.”
Allison had flipped him off when she’d learnt he needed the loan to get a good lawyer, and immediately got to work to hire an army of hers. Nicky knows this doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy or fast, but being a white rich girl is certainly speeding shit up faster than a Mexican gay man would have gotten. It’s fucking shit, but Nicky has no time to fight the good fight right now.
He’s selfish and scared and he wants his kids back.
Chuck is silent for a long time. “If you think this is the best course of action,” he says diplomatically, in the end. Nicky doesn’t wonder why is that.
He couldn’t give less of a shit, honestly.
Chuck only offers him the bare bones of how something like this would work out. Meetings with a lot of people, psychologists and social workers, just like the first time he applied to get custody of the twins; and a judicial hearing at the minors court to decide whether the twins will return to him or go to his parents. Foster care is, it’s repeated, just a temporary measure.
Nicky wants to tell him where he can shove his temporary measures, but he doesn’t. He’s very polite instead and says all the hello’s and goodbye’s before hanging up.
When he turns away from the window, he almost shrikes in terror.
Allison scoffs at him, but doesn’t move an inch out of his space or lower the hand that she has all but in his face. It’s holding her phone; Nicky needs to blink twice and lean back with his neck to read the screen.
The ticking seconds count the duration of a call with Moriyama.
Nicky’s blood freezes. “Allison, this doesn’t—”
“This does,” she interrupts him. “We’re over pride and dignity, remember? He’s got connections and you need them. Swallow, Hemmick; I know you can.”
She lets go of her phone, rather than give it, and Nicky flounders to try and catch it before it falls on the ground. When he finally has it in his hands, firmly, she’s slipped out of the kitchen as quietly as she came, in her fifteen inches stilettos.
Nicky bites his tongue to keep all his Spanish curses in his mind, so that when he brings the device to his ear, his mouth opens and says, simply, “Hello?”
“…I’m fairly convinced I wasn’t supposed to hear those last few sentences.”
This, right here, is just proof that Nicky’s life is never done kicking him in the face when he’s down. “Ichirou, listen I—”
“Reynolds explained,” the man interrupts him. His voice is unperturbed as always, and Nicky refuses to admit that it’s the kind of firmness, the kind of stability, he longs for in the middle of this storm. “Regardless of the state of the relationship between us, you’ve given me invaluable information about my family, Nicky. I would be glad to repay my debt, somehow. Just say the word.”
It’s wrong in all the ways something can be wrong, Nicky is absolutely certain of it, but he’s never been good at right and proper and clean-cut standard-procedure shit, and life isn’t a fairy tail where good people always have their happy endings and evil ones get the punishment they deserve. Big eats small, he thinks.
His father never played fair, anyway.
“I’m saying it now,” he whispers, the lowest he’s ever spoken. “I’m begging you.”
Ichirou’s reply comes immediate. “Consider it done.” Nicky closes his eyes. Thank you, he doesn’t say. “I have to leave you, now. I will call you again.”
It is sunset outside the window. Nicky watches it turn into night as he listens to the phone falling silent.
*
It’s not easy to go to sleep. Matt’s bed is more comfortable than anything Nicky’s ever slept in, but the sheets coil around his legs like snakes, the heat from inside his brain spreads and leaves him sweaty, itchy and desperate, and the sounds of the cars outside are the threatening memory of a five seats truck several years in the past.
It’s been two days.
Nicky tosses and turns and cries silently in his pillow as his only way to lover the pressure building in his chest, threatening to suffocate him, and he’s considering just giving up. He could go to the kitchen, get himself some coffee or better yet some alcohol — though he has a feeling Dan and Matt got rid of it all when they took him over — and he could sit himself down to write what Allison’s lawyers asked for their first meeting tomorrow afternoon.
“Everything works,” the woman with the New York’s accent had said. “If they ever hurt you, if they ever forgot about something on you. Miss Reynolds told me about a conversion therapy camp? I want it on paper, every single thing that happened there. If we get the right judge, that alone will be enough to shut their case down, and then we can move forward on making ours.”
Nicky’s darkest nightmare written on paper. He’d tried last evening but the page had remained just as blank as he’d felt back then.
The thing is, he doesn’t remember lots of it. There are wide blanks in his memories spanning for weeks at time that he cannot dig up no matter how much he tries. And the things he remembers, he hates viscerally because some were awful, some make him want to puke still, but some moments were those in which he felt almost, almost, good. When they told him he was making it, when they praised him for admitting his sins and fighting them, when they painted him the picture of his triumphant return home, an healed boy, a straight man. He’d hold onto those delusions with bleeding fingers, and then they turned out to be just another lie.
In paper, she asked. Are there even the words for it?
His phone buzzes on the nightstand, and at first Nicky stares at it blankly. Allison? Ichirou?
Erik?
It’s four in the morning, the alarm clock says on the nightstand. Nicky gulps and sits up and pushes a hand through his hair, but the phone keeps ringing. Careful, so careful, scared that it’d, what?, explode in his hands? (If only.) He picks it up.
Unknown number.
Nicky sighs. Ichirou then, probably to tell him from an untraceable source that it’s done, whatever it is that he could accomplish. Nicky didn’t really ask, he didn’t really want to know the details.
What great example he’s setting, isn’t he?
His voice is strung to barely a breath of air when he answers, bone-deep tiredness laced to every single letter. “Hello?”
It sounds so stupid a greeting, and yet he can’t think of anything else.
“Nicky.”
A lightening quick recognition, wide eyes, a stray hiccup. Nicky almost chokes on his own spit. “Andrew!”
Too many words rush at his tongue, twisting it and making speaking them out impossible. Inquiries, demands, pleads, all alike and elbowing each others, but the voice at the other end of the call, pitched too high for the night but fitting adolescence like a tailored dress, interrupts them all. “Nicky,” Andrew repeats, so much distress in the forced — fake, so fake — indifference. “Come and get me.”
There’s so many things wrong with this situation. Nicky is not supposed to be in contact with the twins, Luther’s lawyer might destroy him if they heard of it, claim he’d threatened or plied the twin some way, make the whole trial seem unfair, make him look suspicious and dangerous and fishy with something to hide. A call like this, in the middle of the night, and where the fuck even is Andrew? Is he calling from the foster home? Nicky can’t show up there, the parents would surely tell social services if he does!
The only right thing right now, in this whole mess, is being able to hear Andrew’s voice.
What is Nicky supposed to do?
“Tell me where you are.”
He goes.
*
A parking lot. Nicky will admit only to himself that he snickered hysterically to himself the whole drive there.
To the empty parking lot outside a closed mall at motherfucking four in the morning because Andrew ran away from the foster home. He’d been calling from a phone boot. Nicky hadn’t even known there were still functional phone boots in this day and age.
Because Andrew’s foster parents took his phone from him. Curfew. His twin brother was in the hospital and these assholes—
Nicky swerves a bit too tight to get into the parking lot but he can hardly care. A lamppost is flickering, more off than on, and there’s a group of people outside of the pub on the other side of the street with beer bottles in their hands and loud words on their tongues. They don’t seem belligerent, but Nicky can’t help but try and assess them for danger knowing that Andrew straight up went and asked them for spare coin for a call.
If they were good people, why hadn’t they just gave him the phone to call? Where they just too drunk and didn’t think of it?
The phone boot’s glasses are either broken and taped with trash bags or dirty beyond saving so Nicky can only guess at the shapes moving inside it, but he doubts from within it’s possible tell him apart from any other random dude. The figure is still and quiet and his heart breaks some more. “Andrew?”
The door cracks open an inch and Nicky takes in what he can see, blond hair, golden eyes and wary attention, and, fuck, he’s crying again, isn’t he?
Andrew is out of the boot and in front of him in a second. His hand fists Nicky’s jackets but the other stays wrapped around his stomach and he stops just far enough that their bodies aren’t touching.
Nicky wants to hug him so badly, but he’s attuned to the signs now. He stands still, quietly so, and takes in more details. A pyjama under a windbreaker, that’s all Andrew’s wearing and thank fuck it’s summer. Socks, two pairs of them from the looks of it, but no shoes.
No. Damn. Shoes.
Nicky telegraphs his gestures as much as he can force himself to and he puts his hands on Andrew’s cheeks, taking in his expression. The kid’s eyes have always been more telling than he liked to admit. He says, “I’m here,” because it’s all there is to it, all that will matter.
Andrew doesn’t trust words. He trusts promises and actions, and Nicky made one when he said he was coming to get him and followed through with the motions. Now it’s just about letting Andrew take it in.
It seems like an eternity when he says, “Okay,” and then he takes the last step and he doesn’t bury himself in Nicky’s chest but he raises a hand and wraps it tight around Nicky’s middle finger.
It’s a regression, Lord knows as well as Nicky, but it’s not a complete shut out, Andrew’s not so retracted he’d refuse himself even the barest touch of comfort as he did just after Linda’s death, and that’s more than anyone could have hoped for. He’s still standing still, still finding his own ways of asking and saying, and Nicky wants to destroy the world and build it better for him and Aaron.
God, Aaron.
“Uh.” Nicky looks up and blinks because, sure enough, there’s someone else in the phone booth and he has no idea of who this kid might be.
He’s black and he looks a bit older than the twins — though fairly enough they’re more often than not the ones that don’t really look their age —, but he’s wrapped in a sweatshirt over pyjamas and missing his shoes as well. If Nicky needed any more hint that the two were somehow together in this mess of a night.
Genially, he mimics the kid. “Uh?”
“Seth,” Andrew says, low. “Foster kid, same house. Helped.”
Structures rendered in bare bones of sentences, rapid words as if shooting bullets. Nicky lets Andrew’s face go just so he can tuck the kid a bit closer by pulling the hand he’s still hanging on, then he turns to Seth. “Alright, then. Can either of you tell me what’s happening?”
Seth has an angry scowl on his face, but it somehow twists even more as he grunts. “Brat wouldn’t keep quiet,” he huffed. “Was gonna get us all in troubles.”
Nicky would have doubted that even if he hadn’t known Andrew as the least likely kid to throw a tantrum in a scary, strange environment. Something in Seth’s hunched posture, in the overplayed bravado, just screams façade. Therefore, he nods. “Okay. Now, want to try with the truth?”
Seth stiffens and Nicky almost kicks himself. He raised two traumatised kids, did he forget everything about how it is already?
Andrew headbutts Nicky’s arm. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s shivering. It might be the middle of June, but it’s four in the morning and the kid just walked who knows how many blocks barefoot and terrified. It might not be cold, but Nicky doesn’t know how else to deal with it and he crushes the cuss in his mouth between his teeth and his tongue. “Alright,” he caves, not even trying. “Both of you get in the car. We can talk when you’re less likely to turn into puberty popsicles.”
Seth doesn’t seem too eager of obeying, but he takes his cues from Andrew clearly because he follows them to the car with only a couple steps distance. The men at the pub staring at the scene might have something to do with his choice.
In the car, Andrew takes shotgun, Nicky turns the engine on and gets them the fuck out of there. He drives without a real aim, just waiting for the heating to do its magic on the kids’ feet, and when he stops outside Sweetie’s, well. It’s instinct and it’s not like shit hasn’t already blown up, right?
“Banana-split,” he decides, meeting Andrew’s eyes for confirmation. “With all the chocolate and all the syrup and all the cherries the whole place has. Okay?”
Andrew nods quietly. It’s too subdue to truly be reassuring.
Nicky shoots a text to Allison while he gets the kids in. She’ll see it, she always sees everything, no matter the hour, and she’ll get her lawyers up so they can deal with this before it gets to Luther.
The waitress is a new one and doesn’t recognise him when he goes up to the counter to place their order in faster. It’s almost reassuring.
Andrew sits by the window, facing the entrance door so he can see who gets in, and he stares at Nicky until he seats beside him, a buffer wall between him and the rest of the diner. He doesn’t take his jacket off. Seth wriggles awkwardly in front of them.
“Okay,” Nicky says. “Am I getting an answer now?” Seth looks at Andrew, but Andrew is destroying a napkin so he just shrugs. “Drew?”
Andrew’s hands stop.
Quietly, “The husband was scary.” Quieter, “Like Drake.”
It’s some sort of out of body experience. Nicky doesn’t feel anything. This is just another curveball thrown at his kids and it’s like he’s gotten used to the feeling, like his brain is wired to act-first freak-out-later by now.
He crosses his arms on the table and curls forward, protectively around Andrew, non-threateningly toward Seth. “Did he touch you?”
Andrew shakes his head. “He looked,” he says. “Tried to stay and watch when I was changing. Said something ‘bout behaving or else.”
“He’s an asshole,” Seth pipes in. Nicky turns to him, but he’s looking at Andrew still. Following his lead in this as well. “He never touched me, but he hits hard. He’s got this thick belt and the wooden leg of a desk he got some-fucking-where. They fucking hurt.”
Nicky lets the picture raise in his head out of a morbid need to understand how, why, someone would take the leg of a table and use it to hit a kit. What kind of fucked up sadist, with what fucking guts.
The waitress approaches them with their order, tells them cheerily to dig in and leaves their table. Nicky takes one look at the sweet and feels like puking.
Andrew has always had a stronger stomach than him and he picks his spoon to start eating. A glare and a spoon thrown to the face, in pure Andrew’s manners, and Seth is following him suit.
Nicky stares.
When his phone rings again, it says Chuck instead of Allison, but that’s okay. That’s good. Nicky has some words to tell the man.
He picks it up as he heads outside and opens with, “You huge fucking piece of shit.”
***
“Steven and Lorraine had perfect marks,” Chuck says, but his face is white and not for the lights of the diner. “All the surprise visits, all the interviews with the kids— none of this ever came up!”
“Well, fuck,“ Wymack grouches right back. He’s sitting beside Seth because Allison dragged Nicky out to call the lawyers thirty minutes ago and Andrew demanded Renee by his side and David by his friend’s. In no words at all, of course. “I wonder how it could happen that some terrified, traumatised kids lied to the social workers about the man in whose house they lived beating the crap out of them. How impossibly strange.”
Andrew has ducked under Renee’s arm and she rested her head on his. Her eyes never left Chuck and her shoulders held the coiled strength of a snake ready to strike.
Nicky interrupted before Chuck could say anything else that would get him punched. Not that he didn’t want the man to get punched, he very much wished to do so himself, but it wouldn’t look good on their records, considering the situation.
“Allison’s lawyers contacted a judge of the juvenile court. The trial is sped up to this morning, considering the extenuating circumstances. We’re expected at eight.” He can’t help the way his eyes fall to slits as he stares at Chuck. “Aaron’s getting discharged so he can testify, the judge was adamant they hear the twins’ version, so you have to go pick him up.”
Andrew’s reaction is as predictable as heartbreaking. “He can’t!” he hisses. “Nicky!”
Renee cards a hand through his hair as she gently tugs him back into her side. “Chuck is going to bring Aaron straight to the court, Drew,” she says, her tone lite but impossible to be mistaken as anything but an order. “You’ll see him soon and he won’t have to meet Steven.”
Nicky almost asks her not to say that name. He’s been on the edge of throwing up for the past forty hours straight and he really doesn’t want to do it in front of the judge deciding the fate of his family.
Chuck leaves soberly. He tries to meet Andrew’s or Nicky’s eyes, but neither return his gaze. Instead, Renee gets up and helps Andrew to wear his jacket again. He has a pair of sneakers on that Matt hurriedly fetched from Nicky’s apartment, and so is Seth.
Seth has awkwardly shifted closer to Dan and Matt during the hours. Nicky hasn’t heard what they’d been telling, but he guesses it’s an instinctive feeling: Andrew hasn’t been much vocal about Steven, but Seth had called him racist enough times that Nicky can understand the kid’s desire to stick to the other two black people of the group.
Nicky is brown, just like his mother is. Luther had never really liked that, deep down, and Nicky doesn’t know how to be a person of colour, doesn’t know how to be black enough, brown enough, to belong. He’s always been too scared of trying and being told he didn’t belong; he’d had enough of that as the gay kid in church, he wouldn’t have lived through another rejection.
Not enough, not enough, not enough, not Mexican enough, not American enough, not white enough, not brown enough, not man enough, not religious enough, not good, never good enough.
He forces himself to think it’s the best choice in any case: Dan could kick anyone’s ass at any time of day, and Matt wouldn’t enjoy it, his heart too big for it, but he’s tall and big and strong and he could fight if his hand was forced. Nicky is no good in a fight.
The surprise is Allison, actually. She’s brought along a thick sweater that fit nothing with the weather and with the logo of a University she hadn’t attended, a bit old, a bit worn out, but that Seth had shrugged on and had been holding on ever since.
Her face is tight under the perfect make up as she puts her bag on the desk and pulls out a beauty case. “Ten minutes to fix that face of yours,” she mutters under her breath. “This might be the most pressure I’ve ever been under.”
Nicky has no doubt of his state, he’s pretty sure the bags under his eyes reach the base of his nose by now, but he forces a grateful smile to his lips. “You lead a multimillionaire company.”
She glares at him, “Exactly.”
A few times Allison went crazy with make-up on Nicky’s face. Lipstick, eyeliner, foundation and eyeshadow, everything. She always managed to make him look otherworldly beautiful, but that’s not what she’s aiming for today and her brushes, though as precise as always, are stiff and empty of her usual gleeful pride that made her look like a young girl, for once. Her cold-hearted bitch attitude stays on the whole time.
“Stand straight,” she orders. “Don’t drop your gaze, look at the judge, don’t look at your parents. Be smart about this, throw them under the bus for every single stunt they pulled on you.“ Only a handful of inches from her face, she looks at him with eyes twirling. Knowledge, understanding. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for them.”
Nicky nods.
It’s not like he’s afraid of what might happen to his father when he loses this trial — and he will, because Ichirou made sure of it —, but if he stops to think about this carefully, if he pulls himself out just enough, he could feel bad for his mother, feel sorry for all she’d given up for Luther. Maybe, if he were still sixteen, he’d hate the mere idea of hurting her.
“I won’t,” he promises instead, because he’s grown up now and it’s a child’s duty to take care of their parent.
He’s got kids himself, and he can’t comprehend or excuse what she has allowed to happen to him any longer.
Allison nods, lips thin. Nicky can guess what she’s thinking, I’ve been there, I’ve fought my family as well, I know the pain mixed in with the hatred, but she’s better than any person and she doesn’t. Their pains are different, their backgrounds even more so, and she won’t take the spotlight of his suffering to underline her own.
She pulls back shortly after. “The best I could do,” she says grimly, not sounding too satisfied.
“That’s alright,” Renee offers gently. “The bulk of the convincing will be done by Nicky’s words.”
Only Andrew’s presence kept Nicky from exploding. Crying, laughing maniacally, he doesn’t know how, but he really wanted to burst. Fuck.
Wymack grunted, but he patted Nicky’s arm. “Let’s get this over with. Abby, Kevin and Katelyn won’t forgive me if the twins don’t get home right now.”
***
Probably, the underwhelming feeling of the whole ordeal was due to the exhaustion of feelings in seeing Aaron for the first time since the hospitalisation. After getting that, his cousin in his arms, crying in his neck that he didn’t do it, he didn’t want it, he was so fucking sorry, what was the sight of his father’s outraged reddened face? It not like he was saying anything Nicky had never heard before from him.
The judge heard Chuck’s side of the story first, agent Higgins’ second, and the twins’ third. Aaron first, Andrew second. The medical records confirmed the non-consensual drugging theory, and Andrew’s clipped recap of Steven’s behaviour in the past day brought Seth over to the stand as well.
Nicky closed his eyes and brought his lips to his entwined fingers as the words filled the courtroom, barely censored of profanities and still shamefully explicit. Seth laid his trauma bare as if yelling at the stormy sea from on top of a cliff. Listen to me, he seemed to say. Listen to what they did to me. Listen!
Judge Rollins, a black woman in her sixties, asked with hard voice if Allison’s lawyers intended to pursue the case of this young man as well. Mrs Perez didn’t turn to her employer as she claimed that they were going to file the new case as soon as this was over, and Nicky realised: they’d talked about it already, they decided on it.
When he turned to meet Allison’s eyes, she refused him.
Seth’s, she met head on. He seemed to deflate just light, with his face coloured a painful shade of earnest surprise.
It was over so fast Nicky’s terror seemed horribly exaggerated compared to the reality of facts. Mrs Perez passed him a note halfway through Luther’s testimony on Nicky’s alleged unreliability. Apparently, the judge they got had solved many cases with denial of custody to strictly-religious family; her own background presented a history of an abusive marriage with a Catholic extremist man.
Nicky went through the motions of his own statement almost in trance. It was all bureaucracy after all, no less staged than a play in a theatre, and Luther seemed to realised it as the judge shut him down more and more.
He was asked, did he realise the danger he’d left his kids exposed to?, and he said yes.
Did your kid call you in the middle of the night for help? He didn’t know who else to call.
Did you go to him? Of course he did, what kind of question was that?!
Judge Rollins held her hand up to stop Luther’s lawyer from objecting. “I’ve heard quite enough.” She shuffled the papers in front of her for a while, head shaking just lightly, but then she placed them down and looked up at her small, tired audience. “There is no doubt in my mind that returning these children to their cousin’s care is the best course of action, for their safety above all.”
Nicky hears Aaron’s strangled gasp, unsure, disbelieving, and then Renee’s voice, ever so gentle, soothing both of the twins down with barely restrained happiness in her whispers. For himself, he’s not sure. Something is stirring in his throat, but all he can do is fall into old habits: with the corner of his eye, he spies his father’s reaction waiting trying to gauge the best way to dam it back into something manageable.
What do I say, what do I do, the right answer, what’s the right—
He’s ripped out of that well with his name called in a firm but carefully blunt voice.
When he turns, the judge is looking at him directly. “Mr Hemmick, I need you to hear something. This room—“ she gestures vaguely to the court, somber, “—has rarely ever seen accidents. When I get dragged out of bed in the middle of the night for a hearing, usually, it’s because a child died, and it was for the voluntary actions of someone who, in most cases, should have protected them. When i walked in here today, I had expectations of what I was going to hear. I am extremely glad to find I was wrong.”
He wants to tell her there’s a boy in this room who’s been drugged, one who’s been harassed and one who’s been abused; this is not a happy ending, no matter how much worse she’s seen. He doesn’t; he nods instead.
“This wasn’t your fault,” the judge finishes. “I’m not sure you’ll believe it soon enough, but for once I can say it.” A nod. “Now, you should go home and rest with your family.”
The hammer comes down at some point. Nicky barely registers it, under the noise of his father’s outraged screams.
***
They don’t turn back. Nicky tucks Aaron to one side and Andrew to the other, Allison holds a protective arm over Seth’s shoulders and their tiny group leaves, goes.
He doesn’t check whether his parents are looking at him, and how.
Maybe he’s finally stopped caring.
***
Oh, no. He still does.
***
Wymack passes him a glass with water and lemon juice and watches unflinchingly as he twirls it in his mouth before spitting it into the toilet. He feels like he could puke again any second if he tries to move from the cold tiled floor, but logically he knows he hasn’t eaten enough in the past Lord knows how many hours to have anything else to let out.
“You’re giving those kids quite the scare,” the man says. On top of everything else they’ve been through recently, he keeps to himself, but Nicky hears anyway.
His only answer is a grunt, but he forces himself up to his feet with only a third of success owed to the arm Wymack wraps around his waist. Brushes his teeth, checks his terrifying reflection on the mirror and decides, okay, let’s get out.
Not having the twins in hand-reach is terrifying, anyway.
They’re back home, for as upturned as it still looks from Nicky’s impromptu abandonment, but Andrew and Aaron are in their bedroom while everybody else is speed between the living room, discussing Seth’s upcoming trial, and the kitchen to provide some nutrients to everyone.
Wymack stops in the latter, Nicky just aims for the first.
The twins are both on Andrew’s bed, curled closer with their hands held in a tangle of bone-white fingers. Drew is not talking but Aaron is sobbing his heart out. Their Worry-Eaters keep guard from their laps.
Nicky closes the door behind himself and speed-walks to the mattress. The moment his ass touches the cover, Aaron is buried deep in his chest, trembling and crying but never letting go of his twin’s hands.
It’s easy, and terribly familiar from older days filled with nightmares of Tilda, to gather him in his lap and then gently coax Andrew closer himself.
The fake earring is gone, Nicky notices.
“I can’t—” His voice is a raven’s croak. “I can’t lose you guys. I couldn’t let it happen even if it were the right thing for you, and I’m sorry for that.”
Aaron gulps down mouthfuls of air as he apologises for the world, for everything and nothing, and sometimes he slips, sometimes he says mom and don’t and I’ll be good, and Nicky dies a bit every time but he lets it happen because Aaron needs to let it go. Andrew taps on Nicky’s forearm, a drawn out rhythm where every note is faded scar.
It takes a while for it to register. Nicky wants to chalk it up to tiredness, but maybe his brain just didn’t want to see it.
Andrew still has the jacket on. Never took it off, never let the sleeves get any higher than the line of his knuckles. A slight trembling in his hands.
Nicky keeps an arm firmly on Aaron’s lithe frame, but he gently pries the other out of Andrew’s grip to reach for the sleeves instead.
Just a tug is enough to see them, and the first thought, dumb and irrational and pathetically useless, is that relief-tinged assessment that they are clearly marks made by unexperienced hand. The cuts are crusted in red, but they seem relatively light, probably survival instinct catching up and turning into hesitance. There are so many all over the forearm, but they are too low, easily spottable, which means made without intention of hiding, without method.
It’s the first time, probably.
Still.
Nicky closes his eyes and tries to breath through his nose alone least he throws up again. His heart is pumping so fast.
Aaron cries out louder when he sees. Nicky’s hand snaps up to his nape before he can pull away, and he trashes in the hold. Desperation turns to anger, to pain, to hatred, then slowly to desperation again as his efforts to escape break against Nicky’s hold. “I’m sorry,” he yells in his shirt once again. “I ruined it, I’m sorry!”
Andrew clenches his teeth. “I wanted to go,” he hisses. His voice is cold and hoarse as if the silence he’d hold until now had scratched his throat open, as if he’d been quietly screaming this whole time. “He didn’t even— I wanted to go. I insisted we went and I didn’t even pay attention that—”
“Enough.” There’s another Nicky under his skin. He’s taking over the situation with a gentle hand on the reins but firm grip on his throat. It’s an older, better-adjusted version of him that knows what to do, and Nicky lets the illusion take over for a moment. “Enough.”
He kisses Aaron’s forehead, then brings Andrew in as well and kisses him too. His eyes stare at the wall, but his brain picks apart his past for him to push the planimetry of today on it, looking for matches.
“I’ll call Bee tomorrow morning,” he says, when it becomes clear how far they went back to. “You both should talk to her.” Lower, “Maybe I will too.”
Andrew’s shoulders drop, but in a good way; relaxing rather than giving up, abandoning a crushing weight rather than succumbing to it.
Aaron keeps on crying. Nicky promises in his ear that it’s gonna be alright.
Renee brings them tea a few minutes later, and bandages for Andrew because of course she noticed first. She wraps him up and then tucks all three of them under a quilt. The bed is minuscule, but they somehow make it fits.
Nicky whispers, thank you. She nods solemnly before sliding out of the room, and the three of them are out as lights just a second after.
***
Bee listens to half of Nicky’s rambling begging on the phone before telling him to come over to her study, now, so they can talk face to face. He sits in with the twins this time, because Aaron refuses to let go of his sleeve and Andrew won’t stop picking at his bandages.
Bee speaks to him first. “Have you felt the urge to do it again?”
Andrew shakes his head without hesitation. “I was— foggy. Aaron was in the hospital, Nicky was alone, the Pig brought me to that place, Steven said to take that faggy shit off my face and—“ he stops.
Bee looks at him patiently. “Everything you felt is okay, Andrew. It was a terrible moment. We all deal with circumstances the best way our brains can find.”
Andrew keeps quiet for a bit more, with his eyes darting to Aaron every so often, before he finally speaks again, in a much lower voice. “—my stuff was in a trash bag.”
It’s such a small thing, logically, when compared with everything that went down, but the way he says the words cuts Nicky down in a thousand pieces. Trash, like what Tilda always told her kids were.
“That was an awful thing to do to a kid.”
“I don’t know why I cut myself, I never thought of it before.” Andrew’s hands twitch in his lap. “It’s just that Steven had left a razor on the sink and my stuff was in a trash bag.”
“Can you tell me if you were thinking of killing yourself, Andrew?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I just wanted it to hurt.” Bee waits. “It was supposed to hurt. With everything and— But I didn’t hurt. I didn’t feel anything. I should have hurt but I didn’t and I had to.”
Nicky bites his tongue hard. Andrew tilts to the side just enough to fall into him.
Bee nods quietly. “Alright, then.” Nothing is alright, actually, but she turns to Aaron. “And how are you feeling?”
Aaron shrugs. Bee waits for him for three whole endless minutes, but nothing comes out of it.
She looks at Nicky, then. “I think you should also book some hours for yourself,” she opens, without hesitation. “I’m thinking joint therapy for them, but you should follow an individual program at a different moment.”
He knew it already, of course. She’d mentioned on the phone, but even if she didn’t he was smart enough to understand she didn’t want to have him lay out his pain for the twins to see and have them carry it as well as theirs. It would be too much, he knew, so he nodded without hesitation.
When Andrew frowned at him, he forces himself to smile a bit. “There’s more than just tonight that I ought to take care of,” he admits quietly. “Seeing my dad and mom—it hurt me a lot. I need to understand how and why and how to get better.”
“They’re assholes,” Aaron mutters and Nicky hates himself a bit for it but snorts anyway.
Bee smiles at the three of them. “I am a non-judgmental party,” she offered mildly, but Nicky had a feeling where she stood in the privacy of her mind.
Judging by Andrew’s nod, he knew it too.
“So,” Bee said, bring them both to attention. “Shall we find a schedule that works for us? I would suggest a few days to recharge and take a breath, but returning to school, practice and work as soon as possible could help you all to settle back into your routine.”
Nicky had been arranging things around in his head all morning, trying to come up with something that worked, but the first thing out of Andrew’s scrunched up face was, “Kevin’s gonna be annoying.”
“We missed the qualification match for the Little League cup,” Aaron huffed.
The thing was, Nicky couldn’t tell them it was gonna be okay or that Kevin wouldn’t be pissed. Kevin would absolutely be pissed, it was his way of displaying that he cared, which for some reason looked like the most absurdly normal thing to have happened in the past week.
So Nicky laughed, if a bit hysterically, and Aaron sighed and Andrew rolled his eyes and, okay, there were far from alright.
They had to start from somewhere, didn’t they?
***
DM from Erik Klose:
You’re welcome? Not sure what I did, but I’m happy I helped!
Damn, it’s been a while, isn’t it?
How are you doing, Nicky?
_____________________________________________________
Authoress’ notes:
I don’t know if I forgot to post a chapter on here - I’m pretty sure I posted it though - or if Tumblr is fucking with me but there seems to be at least one part missing. I’ll try and fix it soon, for now the AO3 version is the easiest way to keep track of this story.
Aaaaaaand we have another Seth. Sue me, I wanted to give him another chance. Also the twins get joint therapy finally. There is probably going to be one other chapter for this Arc, maybe two? Then we’re off to a new one! Exciting stuff!
Happy Holidays to everyone, guys!
Agap
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j3mjj3m · 5 years
Note
Bro. I love your writing. Will there pls be a part 3 for the radio show ficlet 🙈♥️
yes because im trash here it is
p.1 / p.2 / p.3
*
The first time Andrew stopped by Neil’s recording studio, FM-OX Studios, it was a brief moment of panic. He had a coffee in each hand, and buzzed his studio with his elbow. The door made a beeping noise and slid open for him, and he was confronted by the dark inners of a radio station. 
It occurred to him that despite his qualifications in media and communications, he’d never traversed into a real station. The reception desk was empty, the stairwell behind it scarcely lit. Andrew could still see the various photos, awards and promotional posters. It was odd connecting faces to voices: He hadn’t expected to recognise any of them, but one photo had him standing still. 
Kevin and a middle aged man with full sleeve tattoos were standing side-by-side at some sort of award ceremony. Kevin held an award. They shared the same tight-lipped smile and shadowed gaze, Kevin’s dark hair a youthful version of the man’s grey streaks. 
Andrew would ask Kevin about it, if he remotely cared about anything to do with Kevin’s strange realm of fame and glamour. The intrigue passed like a cold chill and Andrew kept moving up the stairs with no more than a disinterested huff.
He sidled past various closed offices and let himself into the main recording studio. 
It only occurred to him as he looked through the com-glass that he’d never realised how insane this was. Yes, Neil was a public figure, and if anything happened to Andrew, records of their calls would be on the working phones and presumably recorded in this public space. 
Still, Andrew had no idea what the man looked like. There was almost nothing on FM-OX’s online page on him, and there were certainly no photos of him. Andrew wasn’t going to know if he acted differently whilst on and off air. Andrew had almost no information on him, so what the fuck did he think he was doing, waltzing in like this? 
And then Andrew had looked through the glass. 
There he sat. Sitting under only the light of a lampshade, face illuminated by a programming screen as his hands moved across a soundboard. A phone sat to his left, and his hand tapped nervously by it, as if waiting for bad news. 
Movement through the glass had Neil looking to where Andrew was stood, frozen. A look of slight shock flit across the man’s face and he stood to let Andrew into the recording studio, taking the coffee from Andrew’s free hand. 
He was barely taller than Andrew was. 
“Hi,” He said, a little mesmerised that Andrew was actually there. 
Andrew only had to take one look at his decadent red curls, the dazzling blue eyes and distorted scars across his cheeks and hands before knowing he was absolutely fucked. 
Shit.
*
Neil cocked his head to the side as he considered Andrew, who dozed lightly in an armchair he’d dragged into the studio with his feet up on the recording desk. 
It wasn’t the first time Andrew had come in: He’d been here upwards of a dozen times by now. Neil was no less perplexed by the man, who spent most of his nights tending one of Columbia’s downtown bars. 
Neil had actually looked into the man’s qualifications. He’d come through at the top of his class and denied various offers for positions in news presenting and show hosting on various stations across the east coast, as far north and prestigious as New York. Andrew even turned down down a Los Angeles placement that would have put him on a path akin to Kevin Day’s. 
Neil was at a loss about the man. He never talked about presenting. He never considered a different life other than the one he’d garnered and bartered for. 
Really, Neil couldn’t quite pin down what they spent their time talking about. All Neil knew was that it was easy, just as entertaining as it had been over the phone. Andrew listened in on the phone calls with him and made rude remarks under his breath, of which Neil muted but wished he could keep on air. 
With November brought the holiday season, which always left Neil feeling a little hollow. Dan and Matt had invited him to spend Thanksgiving at theirs, but it felt like a little more than an intrusion: Neil still couldn’t see himself as their awkward, flighty coworker that they put up with because they didn’t have much of a choice. Radio didn’t stop for the holidays, but they’d insisted that he should put a pre-record on for the night and stay over. 
It lead him to some intriguing topics of conversation. Who was going to see their families for the holidays? Who’s family drama was the most insidious? What awful gifts have you received? What are you thankful for?
Neil talked about these on air, but the most coveted discussions were those with Andrew. Andrew, who looked at Neil from under his lashes as he let his fingers brush over the soundboard. Andrew, who texted Neil songs he’d found that fit the theme or style of Neil’s show. Andrew, who was both brutally honest and impossible to read. 
“What about you?” Neil asked one evening, letting his microphone go on mute as Billy Joel began playing. Andrew didn’t look at him or even acknowledge he’d spoken aside from the arch of a singular eyebrow. “What are your holiday plans?”
“My mother died when I was sixteen, I never knew my father, I havdn’t spoken to my brother since he moved to Chicago for med-school and my cousin lives away from his God-fearing parents in Germany with his husband.” Andrew said, spinning the Rubic’s cube in his hand. “Does that give you a clear enough answer?”
Neil hummed. “My father got locked up for life because of various reasons. My mother’s death was one of them. My only relations run gang operations between France and England. I think we’ve got the same sentiment there.”
Andrew finally stopped his fiddling and graced Neil with a heady gaze. “Let’s not talk about family.” 
“Let’s not.” Neil agreed. 
Andrew’s fingers reached out: They only just managed to brush gently across the scars on Neil’s cheek, the ones where his father and his assistant had cut bloody revenge onto his face for speaking out against him. 
Neil smiled hesitantly with the odd gentleness in Andrew’s touch. Censure passed between them, until Andrew jerked his hand away like Neil’s skin was scalding to the touch. 
The odd moment passed, being one of many. Eventually, he found that Andrew’s presence made his shifts pass quicker than normal: The toughest hours were the last, when exhaustion began to settle in. Andrew brought good coffee and quiet conversation, filling up the dark space that always swathed Neil whilst hosting. 
It’d been a long while since routine like this, involving and revolving around someone else, had felt comfortable, rather than paranoia inducing or guilt-inspiring. 
Neil put it down to the loneliness of the night shift, and assumed Andrew was there for the same reasons. 
*
“You should co-host with me one night.” Neil suggested, as they turned off the lights of the studio and checked the pre-recorded hour of music would carry over until Renee’s morning show. 
Andrew was particularly lethargic that night: He’d been growing more accustomed to the later schedules and was almost fully nocturnal at this point. But that night at Eden’s had been particularly gruelling, the slowness of the evening as people became more reluctant to go out due to the weather and the holidays. 
That was the only reason Andrew gave a half-hearted shrug, rather than a flat out no. It wasn’t that he’d already entertained the thought. It wasn’t that he’d watched the way Neil came alive when recommending music and talking to various callers, letting his sharp tongue kiss the cheek of death as he pointed out prejudices and subjective opinions. 
Neil’s hesitant smile was practically too good to deny. 
But being a co-host meant being administered into the payroll of Wymack’s various presenters. His studio wasn’t loosely run, but it wasn’t exactly a commandeered ship either: Andrew’s presence had been mostly unnoticed for about a month and a half. 
Six weeks, since Andrew had first walked in with coffee. Six weeks had been all it took for Neil to work up the nerve to ask him to present alongside him. Like presenting was a taboo between them, when they were together exclusively whilst Neil hosted his show. Andrew didn’t hate journalism and presenting. He couldn’t find enough interest in it to hate it. 
Andrew did hate Neil, though. He hated that he’d wormed his way past Andrew’s exterior and persisted, until Andrew’s resolve crumbled and Neil could see all of his ugly truths and scars. 
“I told Wymack I want to bring on an irregular co-host. That I’ve already found one.” Neil continued. 
“Didn’t think to ask me first?”
Neil raised his chin. “You can say no.” 
“Shut up.” Andrew muttered, angrier at himself than anyone else. If Kevin found out about this, Andrew was moving to New Zealand and studying fairy penguins for the rest of his life. “Fine.”
It’d only be temporary. Nothing more. 
“I thought that was my line.” Neil snarked, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. He looked relaxed. Andrew really wanted to lean over and kiss him. 
Oh, he thought vaguely. It wasn’t a new desire, but it’d never been so definite. That’s new. 
“Fuck off, Josten.” 
Neil only snorted.
He looked back to the phone that sat on Neil’s desk, and wished he’d never fucking called in the first place. 
*
we will get there I PROMISE
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ask-dan · 4 years
Note
Please do post it.
((Fffffffffffffffiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine
It’s def nsft, so read at your own risk.  Also it takes place right after they kiss for the first time, picking up where the post on ask-edd left off))
“I love you too.”
Dan eagerly pressed his lips to Tom's, mostly in an effort to get him to shut up, but also because he's been wanting to do it for years.  Tom, although surprised at first, melts into the kiss.  He closes his eyes and moves his hands from Dan's shoulders to his face, cupping it gently and holding him in place just a little longer before pulling away to breathe.
They stand there in the darkened room, just barely illuminated by the glow from Tom's laptop, staring lovingly at each other.  With their graduation from friends to lovers, they've opened so many doors.  What will they do first?  Will they tell their roommates the good news, or will they stay here for just a little longer?  Tom moves towards his bedroom door, prompting Dan to think it's the former.  But upon Tom shutting and locking the door, he realizes they may be in here for a while.  
Tom turns back to Dan, giving off a much different aura.  Dan can sense a fire in his heart, one sparked by passion and desire.  A desire Dan could’ve only dreamed of seeing before tonight.  Yet, here it is.  Tom approaches him and engages another kiss as he slowly edges him back towards his bed.  Just a few steps back and Dan hits the mattress, falling backwards on it.  He lands with a soft “oof-” as Tom pulls his hoodie off.  Dan reaches down to do the same, but Tom stops him.
“No, let me do it.”  He whispers.  Dan slowly moves his hands away as Tom finds his way under his hoodie and begins to lift it up and off of him.  He does the same to his shirt and pauses to take in the view before him.  The love of his life laying below him, hot, bothered, panting just slightly, and completely at his mercy.  He runs his hands down Dan’s chest, stopping to thumb at his nipple before tracing his top surgery scars.  He finds it kinda funny that he’s known Dan for so long, he almost forgot who he used to be.  
Dan looks up at him, silently hoping the scars aren’t affecting anything.  Tom can tell Dan’s worried though, so to dissuade those thoughts, he bends down and kisses him again.  He slowly begins to trail kisses from his mouth to his jaw to his neck.  He shifts just slightly to grant him shark teeth and uses them to very gently nibble on his neck.  Dan is caught off guard by the sharp pain in his neck, but his immediate reaction is to man and mewl and shift his legs.  Tom can tell Dan’s ready to go, so the foreplay can wait.  
Tom shifts back and stands upright again, focusing his attention on Dan’s jeans.  He goes to pull at them, but Dan stops him.
“Tom, you know I-”
“I know.  It’s okay.”
Though he may be a male, Dan’s missing a piece of his puzzle.  But Tom doesn’t care, he loves Dan as he is now.  Content with his answer, Dan allows him to continue.  He pulls Dan’s pants off with relative ease considering they’re already a size too big.  He follows suit with Dan’s underwear until he’s lying naked on Tom’s bed.  He instinctively closes his legs, but Tom gently parts them.
“No, let me see all of you.”  
Dan shudders at his word choice but relaxes and lets Tom continue.  Though, he can’t help but notice how one-sided this is.  He reaches up to Tom’s shirt and pulls at it to signal he wants it gone.  Tom gets the memo and pulls it off, dropping it to the floor.  He wastes no time getting to his pants and boxers, pulling them off too, leaving Dan  in awe of the sight before him.  He's not quite sure if it's going to fit.  But Tom's gonna make it fit.  He reaches over to the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieves a small, half used bottle of lube and a condom.  He takes a moment to tear the condom wrapper off with his teeth and roll it over his dick before squeezing some lube into his hand and applying it to his shaft.  Once prepared, he re-centers himself between Dan’s legs.  Dan’s heart is beating out of his chest at this point as he eagerly awaits Tom to make the first move.
“Hey, just..  Let me know if I need to stop, okay?”
“Okay..”  
After taking a deep breath, Tom lines himself up at Dan’s entrance and begins to push himself in.  Dan tenses up, his hands gripping Tom’s duvet for dear life.  
“Ah, fuck-!”  Dan cries out a bit louder than intended.  Tom’s hand immediately presses to Dan’s mouth as he shushes him.  He turns his head to look at the door just in time to see a shadow move under it.
“Yo Tom, you alright in there?”  Edd calls out through the door.
“Yeah, I’m good, I just uh.. Stubbed my toe.”  Tom answers, a bit unconvincingly.
“Oh rip.  Need some ibuprofen?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Alright.  Hey, Matt and I are about to load up Smash, you wanna play?”
“Nah, I’m good for now.  Maybe later.”
“Alrighty then.” 
Tom waits for another second or two after Edd’s shadow leaves to turn to Dan.
“You gotta be quiet.” He whispers gently as he removes his hand from Dan’s face
“Sorry.”
With that out of the way, they resume.  Tom slowly but surely pushes his way into Dan, almost able to fit all the way inside of him.  He stops to let Dan’s body get adjusted to his size and also to wipe away the small tears that formed in his eyes.  Though it hurt, her was trying to make the best of it.  As they’re stopped, Tom takes another moment to let this moment sink in.  He was Dan’s first kiss, and now he gets to be Dan’s first real partner.  He studies his love’s form under him, observing his beet red face, how his chest rises and falls with his breathing, the small pink marks left on his neck from where he was bitten earlier.  He stares at him so intently, yet sweetly.  Almost as if he fears he’ll never see Dan like this again.
After about a minute or two of silence, Dan speaks up.
“Okay, I think I’m ready.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
With Dan’s permission, Tom pulls out a bit before pushing back in.  He moves in slow, short strokes at first, which seems to be working.  Dan’s hand is over his mouth, preventing anything louder than a whimper or a mewl from escaping his throat, his other hand still has a death grip on Tom’s blanket, his eyes are shut so tightly they’re practically clipping into each other.  He eventually signals for Tom to pick up the pace, which he does.  His slow, short strokes become longer and just a bit faster.  He watches as Dan shifts underneath him, his body beginning to tighten and heat up.  Tom knows Dan’s not going to last much longer, so he kicks it up another notch, picking up the pace and pounding into him.  Dan’s hand that was gripping the bedding quickly moves to reinforce the one over his mouth as sounds try to escape it.  Dan suddenly sees stars as his moans and cries that accompany his first body-wracking orgasm are just barely heard through his throat.  They die down quickly after it’s over.  Tom slows down but doesn’t stop, letting him down from his high gently.  
“You okay?”
The best Dan can manage is a weak thumbs up.  Tom comes to a full stop so Dan can release the tension in his body and relax for a minute.  Once he’s ready to keep going, Tom picks the pace back up, slowly rising to full speed again.  Dan’s inner workings are still sensitive after the first orgasm, so it’s not long before it happens again.  But this time Tom doesn’t stop.  He keeps fucking Dan through three more peaks before he finally reaches his own end.  With a soft grunt and a few more thrusts, his seed spills into his condom.  He stands motionless for a moment before pulling out of Dan who whines in response to the empty feeling.  He pulls the condom off and ties it closed before dropping it into the trash can next to his desk.  He ties the bag too to remind himself to take it out.  
He returns his attention to Dan who’s lying motionless apart from his heavy panting.  After some readjustment, Tom manages to pick Dan up and lay him right side up on his bed, leaving the blanket open.  He doesn’t get in yet though, instead he heads over to the door and unlocks it, cracking it open a bit.
“Hey Edd, I’m just gonna go to bed, don’t wait up for me!”  He calls out down the hallway to the living room
“Okay, goodnight!” Edd calls back.
Tom shuts his door again before heading back to his bed and climbing in with Dan.  He pulls the covers over them both and spoons his bed mate, pressing his chest to Dan’s back and wrapping an arm over him.  He’s already about half asleep, but he manages to let out a very small “I love you”.
“I love you too, Dan.”  Tom gives him a kiss on the neck before closing his eyes and drifting off to dreamland.
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